


Selcouth

by TheAwkwardEnthusiast



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Multi, Original Characters - Freeform, Spark Bonds, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Violence, mentions of abuse, mentions of assault, relationship dynamics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2019-12-07 17:16:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 28,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18237896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAwkwardEnthusiast/pseuds/TheAwkwardEnthusiast
Summary: Selcouth (adj.) Unfamiliar, rare, strange and yet marvelousA collection of brief snapshots chronicling the events that led to Soundwave’s eventual partnership with his cassettes long before the war was even an idea and the event that sparked his sacred oath of silence.





	1. The Eccedentesiast

 

_“I have no notion of loving people by halves,_

_It is not in my nature.”_

 

\--Jane Austen, Northanger Abbey

 

 

 

**_[CYBERTRON, LOCATION UNKNOWN, 670 VORNS AGO…]_ **

He awoke to a cacophony of pain.

He held no memories of his life before, no recollections haunting his memory banks or whispers of unexplained emotions lingering within his spark chamber. All he remembered from the moment he had onlined his optics was a dreary rusted ceiling visible through a cracked and dusty scarlet haze and the steady dripping of water in the distance. The air hummed noisily, tainted with a heaviness he couldn’t identify and which prickled his frame and burned his vents with each raspy inhalation.

The pain, he realized, was not a surprise. Errors flashed across his HUD, flashing red glyphs alerting him of extensive damages to his arms and legs and basic infrastructure; ruptured Energon lines in his wrists were slowly dwindling his precarious energy supplies and various other apertures had allowed rust and dirt inside his delicate circuitry, frying some and slowly decaying those that remained. One of his fingers was broken and others found the joints stripped with fraying wires protruding from the seams. His audials were working and despite the cracks in his visor, his optics were operating under normal parameters. A little slow but…functional.

He was alive, he reasoned and for some reason the realization brought about a strange sense of relief over him. Swallowing what little oral lubricant his dry mouth could muster, he tried to speak but only a hideous sound of warbled static escaped him and he quickly clamped his lips shut, mortified.

As if on cue a gentle caress was felt in the back of his processor, foreign to his frame but not unfamiliar. It was warm and it wordlessly sent bursts of affection and safety that quickly worked at suppressing the shock he’d previously felt. Curious, his own mind pushed against the invasion and the strange energy source delightedly responded, wrapping around him in a display of affectionate submission. Not long after another caress popped up, this one much more severe than the previous, and it jostled against the other, taking it’s place and sending waves of strength and reassurance that seemed almost comically unbefitting of such a belligerent presence.

But he trusted it as much as the other and before long, that strength translated to his physical frame and through the pain and the uncertainty, he found himself moving. First it was his legs, which gave small twitches that sent small but bearable bursts of pain through his entire frame. Systems checks stated that his struts were in need of proper oiling and one of his ankles had an aperture that had become infected with rust. But he overrode the warning and continued with his own diagnostic, slowly bringing his still frame to life until he could finally feel himself entirely.

 _Good,_ the stronger of the two energies said, obviously very pleased with his progress. _Now get up._

Up. That seemed plausible; he quickly made sure his spinal strut was intact and free of any damaging injuries and proceeded to do just that, bunching up his shoulders and slowly lifting his helm upwards. For a moment, a wave of dizziness washed over him from the sudden movement but he shuttered his optics and continued, intent on at least sitting up. It was an agonizingly slow process and each movement was met with resistance and pain that had him gritting his dental plates and expelling strained grunts. The voices cheered him on, offering métier and encouragement and it wasn’t long until he managed to find himself sitting upright, torso hunched and servos clenched tightly in his lap.

 _Good!_ The gentle voice was ecstatic, bouncing around in his processor and sending warmth that he felt to the deepest recesses of his spark.  _You’re doing so good, Sounders!_

_Sounders._

He rebooted his optics, shuttering them a couple times until the blurriness faded and he could focus on his surroundings. He was in a dimly lit room, surrounded by broken machinery and piles of mismatched scrap metal littered the entire floor, dark stains of long dried fluids decorating the floor. It was cold and drafty, a sharp wind digging into his frame and sending involuntary shivers down his spinal strut. But for all his discomfort, he wasn’t focusing on that. He was searching for the sources of those mysterious energy signatures; the warmth and the strength that had met him when he’d come online, the ones who seemed to know who he was. The former had called him a designation and though he didn’t feel any memories surface at its mention, a small brush of recognition was felt somewhere in his Spark and he didn’t feel the need to reject the title.

It was his name.

 _Not quite._ The strong presence said softly, amused. _Sounders is what we call you but it’s only a variation of your designation. Your full name is Soundwave._

Soundwave. He liked the sound of that; it rolled quite fluidly and he hummed softly, appreciating the fact that he knew who he was now. He sent small bursts of gratitude towards the two incidences and then very subtly sent a different inquiry at the end.

Where were they?

The warmer of the two let out a sad coo while the other sat in silence for what seemed like forever. But then it sent a wave of sympathy and said: _we have much to catch up on, Soundwave. But there will be time for that but we must move cautiously. You must be patient, understand?_

Soundwave nodded in affirmation.

_Good. Now, we’re going to come out now, alright? Are you ready?_

Once more, Soundwave nodded, finding himself eager to meet these strange two acquaintances of his. He was unsure of who they were but none of his systems warned him of their presence and he knew, somehow, that they wouldn’t hurt him. So, he trusted them. He sent a wordless agreement to the previous inquiry, anticipation superseding all other emotions.

Movement was visible from the corner of his optics almost immediately and he slowly turned his helm to observe, visor dimming in an attempt to adjust to the darkness. A pair of green optics slowly flickered to light, shuttering a couple times before settling on an emerald glow. Soundwave merely tilted his helm, ignoring the pain that lanced up his processor from the action. The optics moved forward slowly, faint clinks of tiny pedes echoing throughout the vast room until a tiny bipedal bot emerged from the shadows, lithe and full of smooth arcs in his armor whose green and black surface was riddled with fissures and dents. His silver faceplates were soft and kind but Soundwave could tell that his tiny size did not correlate with his age; the strong presence in his mind flared with his proximity and Soundwave rejoiced at finally putting a name to the one who brought him such strength. He smiled, scarred derma aching slightly from the effort.

“I’m Warfe.” The tiny bot said, dipping his helm in a minute semblance of a greeting. His voice was deep but suave and Soundwave couldn’t stifle the awe he felt at Warfe’s presence. He carried himself in a way that warranted respect but there was no arrogance to his EM field, merely an unwavering resilience that rivaled his stature.

Blue optics suddenly peered from behind him and Soundwave’s attention was immediately diverted to them, curious.

Warfe turned to regard the newcomer and smiled softly, stepping aside to reveal a tiny aerial who cooed bashfully and was trying to hide behind a silver painted wing. She too carried marks of injury but they did not impede her movements, which were graceful for her awkward boxy build.

Without thinking, Soundwave reached a hand out towards her and to his relief, neither rejected his advances. Warfe merely smiled and Stratis rumbled affectionately, carefully letting the blue mech trace his injured fingers over her smooth alloy. The touch was tentative but affectionate and the warmth that radiated through his frame from where they touched solidified the final piece of the puzzle in Soundwave’s mind. These were them, his warmth and strength and they were his…

His…

“Family,” Warfe murmured softly, smiling as he caught onto Soundwave’s thoughts. The larger mech felt the minibot’s amusement and he couldn’t help but bask in it. He opened his mouth, intent on repeating the word but static laced every single syllable.

“F—m---ly…”

Stratis nodded her tiny helm. _Family, we are family._

Slowly but surely, bits and pieces of Soundwave’s processer began to boot back online. His language modules, communication relays, memory banks…one by one, the puzzle that was his mind began to piece itself back together and take shape, enabling his frame to grow a little steadier with each passing nanoklik. The cold became much more pronounced and his helm began to ache slightly as his senses suddenly seemed to flare tenfold; he heard the creak of Warfe’s joints, the skittering of tiny rodents in the walls and their coalescing EM fields mingled with his to create a static hum that slowly began to drown him in its noisy embrace.

Before he could fully succumb to his confusion and paranoia, Warfe placed a hand on his arm and his presence bloomed to fruition in his processor, delving into the delicate network and relays to numb his senses down to acceptable decibels. _Relax,_ he said wordlessly, _just breathe and focus on me and Stratis…focus…and relax._

Soundwave followed the sound of his voice, noticing that his frame had seized and his servos dug into the sides of his helm so tensely that he’d left dents in the blue alloy. Haggard vents escaped clenched dental plates until he regulated his intakes and relaxed to the point that he was exhaling shaky sighs. But for all the peace wallowing through his frame, he felt something else in the back of his processor, harsher and not unlike the presences of his two symbionts.

Wait.

 _Symbionts._ What was that word? His diverted focus suddenly took him into a different nueral pathway and his optics widened as a screeching sound of static sounded in his audials and he was met with a flurry of images across his HUD.

Yellow, purple and blue.

Screaming and pain and _agony_.

Flashing dentae, warm sticky derma peeling off, the screech of twisting metal…

Blue and yellow and _purple_ —

_“Soundwave!”_

His optics refocused, the images fading and leaving only trace flickers of the offending hues in his vision briefly before receding completely. Frowning slightly, he glanced around and he was surprised to notice that he was standing on his pedes and he was crouched into what appeared to be a fighting stance; his arms were resting in front of him, servos clenched tightly into fists and Spark fluttering with fearful anticipation.

But for what?

Alarmed, he tried to straighten up but he placed his weight on his injured foot and lost his balance, falling backwards onto his aft. The resounding clang echoed throughout and Warfe and Stratis winced at the sound, both immediately swarming towards him and scanning him for any new injuries. Soundwave felt nothing other than pain in his fingers since they had all been used far too roughly and any damages seemed to have been made worse.

Stratis’ optics were full of worry from where she perched on his knee and Warfe was rubbing gentle circles into the blue armor on his arm, green optics focused entirely on him.

“You’re okay,” he said, soothingly.

Soundwave swallowed roughly, remembering the fear that had curdled in his spark and he couldn’t help but deny the warm affirmation. Fortunately, Warfe made no further attempts to placate him and merely sighed, hand halting its ministrations.

“There’s a lot that’s happened to you…to us.” He said carefully. “And we will help you remember. But the only way to do so is to continue moving forward. You will heal and continue to live and you’ll remember. Who you are, what you are, why you’re here. But not today, okay?” He trailed off, voice wavering slightly. “Can you do that?”

No, he wanted to say. How could he simply move forward when such horrible things were haunting his faulty memory banks? Who was he to have warranted such violence and blatant disregard? Nobody ended up among the remains of waste if they were good and worthwhile bots, did they?

No.

He glanced down at Warfe, suddenly feeling apprehensive. Why were they here with him…and not offlined somewhere else? Surely if someone had attacked, they would’ve gone for them in a sparkbeat. Their tiny frames wouldn’t have stood a chance against normal mechs; with a twist of their fingers, they’ rip Warfe’s arm out of its socket and a well-placed stomp would render Stratis a tiny imprint of delicate wires and pink Energon stains--

The black and green biped merely stared up at him, unlike Stratis who had visibly recoiled and gotten down from Soundwave’s knee to rest on the floor. His faceplates were unreadable but they were not unkind; they were merely observing, green optics narrowed as they felt his thoughts and emotions, EM field wound tightly around him.

Finally, he sighed, the sound heavy with some unspoken burden. “Okay.”

Soundwave canted his helm, confused.

“There’s a way to show you what happened,” Warfe said quietly. “But I need you to trust me.”

A brief moment of hesitation then Soundwave nodded _. I trust you to tell me the truth._

A databurst of gratitude and then a small hiss sounded, prompting Soundwave to glance down at his chest, the dark blue plating scuffed and glass compartment cracked, which was now opened. He saw intricate wiring and circuitry and he marveled at the tiny space but his systems reminded him of what it was and he gazed at Warfe expectantly.

With a small nod, the small mech transformed into a cassette and fitted snugly into the slot. Broken circuitry whirred and Soundwave winced as dormant systems rebooted, his carrier protocols connecting to his symbiont seamlessly. He exvented softly, well aware that Stratis was watching intently and tried to relax as the connection was established.

A small confirmation popped up on his HUD and he accepted it. Then the flood of information came and he tensed, expecting the same experience that came from the previous memory influx. But this time the images gradually trickled into his processor and Warfe’s presence wrapped around his Spark, offering strength when the information was less than pleasant and affection when they were enjoyable. It was like being submerged in a hot oil bath and despite the sporadic lapses of painful recollections, he found himself lulled. Soundwave lost track of time, not that he’d kept count since his inner chronometer was broken, but it felt like a long time.

A lifetime, because that’s really what it was.

When the final memory went back into place and Soundwave regained full lucidity, he felt much more alert. Gone was the brief awe he had held for his symbionts and replaced with a steadfast respect for the tiny bots he saw as his equals. Despite their differences in size, Soundwave held them in high esteem and their stable quantum bond was a clear indication of their relationship.

He let out a heavy vent and reached for Stratis, optics twinkling with sad recognition behind his visor. Letting out a joyful keen, the aerial flew into his arms, nestling her face against his intakes and cooing softly. Soundwave held her gently, his arms wrapping around her tiny frame and pressing her against the cracked glass of his chest compartment. Inside, Warfe rumbled happily and in that moment, despite their circumstances, Soundwave felt at ease.

Despite the betrayal and the strife that had landed them here, they were not broken. Damaged and in pain, but they had each other…in that moment that was all that mattered.

It would always be enough…

 

~~~

****

**_[CYBERTRON, KAON, PRESENT DAY]_ **

_“It’s cold.”_

_“Everything hurts.”_

_“Sounders, why does it hurt so much?”_

_Soundwave…_

“SOUNDWAVE!”

The blue plated mech started out of his thoughts, optics shuttering before they focused on the mech standing before him. He was an aerial, with polished purple armor that glistened in the light and wings that seemed to have never made any acquaintance with the smog infested skies that comprised the atmosphere of Kaon. But all of that amounted to little when one focused on his blazing golden optics that shone with vigor unbecoming of someone who lived such a sedentary lifestyle.

Soundwave quickly dipped his helm in an apology. “Forgive me, Octane.” he said in his usual monotone. “Soundwave: distracted.”

Octane grinned, amused. “Getting cold feet about your fight with Yuss? Please, you got nothing to worry about, mech. Just do what you always do and you’ll do just fine.”

Soundwave pursed his lips, thankful for his visor and battlemask that hid his expressions from the world. It was mechs like Octane that made such accessories necessary in the gladiatorial rings because their black and grey perspectives of life and death situations were spoken so blasé, offending everyone in the vicinity with a shred of common sense. Octane couldn’t help it; he owned a portion of the stocks riding on the underground pits and the influx of credits he got from the events he helped organize allowed him to life a rather lavish lifestyle without any of the danger. His position as Soundwave’s primary sponsor was a welcome addition to his monetary compensation and he made no effort to hide how much the carrier’s wins filled him with unbridled joy.

Gladiatorial pit fighting was illegal but the Senate understood that a society ruled by a rigorous caste system and commandeered by restricting Functionist ideologies needed an outlet and what better way for the middle and upper classes to vent some steam than watching the filth of society tear each other apart? Senators claimed to have no knowledge of such proclivities but Soundwave knew that even if they didn’t attend the events in person, they obtained recordings of the events and had runners place bets under their various aliases.

Soundwave was no fool; when Octane met with him after a successful match and boasted of earnings that carried more than six digit numbers, it was obvious that higher ups were staking their claims in the betting pools. In a world full of hypocrites, it wasn’t difficult deciphering who they were.

Octane offered Soundwave a charming smile, settling into his chair behind his desk and folding his hands on the shiny metal surface. “Now, I’m sure you’re wondering why I even bothered to call you up here. And the reason is simple; I got a proposition from Iota.”

Iota. Soundwave knew that designation; it belonged to one of his fellow pit fighter’s sponsors, Maywinds.

“Iota’s organizing a tournament to celebrate the midorn and he wants you to participate in it. Now, granted it’s not going to be much of a challenge since most of those attending are rookies but hey, publicity!” Octane’s wings fluttered at the exclamation and he let out a small chuckle when Soundwave didn’t outwardly respond. But he was undeterred by his sponsoree’s moroseness; he waved a servo in the air, as if doing so could dispel the awkward silence that had settled in the air and continued with his explanation.

“You’ve had a good season this orn, Soundwave. You defeated Tankor, took out Giga and managed to become a fan favorite! You need to take a break from those sudden death matches but you also need to stay in shape. Iota’s tournament is more about making sure you survive the timed matches and it’s all hands on, no weaponry allowed.” He leaned back in his chair, lifting one shoulder up in a shrug. “I haven’t approved anything yet but Vel seems pretty excited about it.”

Mention of his handler had Soundwave stiffening and he narrowed his optics, a thin band of light flashing across his visor. His frame prickled as ghostly sensations of fingers ran along his scuffed panels, digging into seams and pulling restlessly at the delicate sensors that lay exposed underneath with sharp talons that nicked and scratched the delicate protomesh. Pleasure and pain lanced through his neural net and the confusing incursion of tactile data made him uneasy, a shiver racing up his spinal strut as the apparitions receded back into his memory banks.

He hated how his name invoked such reactions but he despised how he went behind his back during such arrangements even more. Gladiators tended to be used like merchandise, that’s true but Soundwave had slowly worked his way into a position where he could at least have some say when his managers thought of new ways to use him to make some credits. There was no respect for him as an individual, and there never will be, but there was appreciation for his talents and his strength…two things that were valued above all else in the Pits. Gladiators with incentives tended to work harder and Vel and Octane had learned that early on during their partnership. Resisting the urge to clench his fists, Soundwave settled for canting his helm to one side inquisitively. “Query: participation already sanctioned?"

Octane smiled, “Honestly? We’re just waiting for your verbal confirmation before sending your application package to Iota.”

Of course. Soundwave let out a small sigh, inaudible to anyone but him. The end of the season had usually spelled out a couple cycles of rest and recuperation, time that the carrier mech had liked to spend touring the small vendor market that lay not too far on the outskirts of the arena. But such small indulgences were irrelevant in the face of his occupation and he chastised himself for foolishly believing he’d be offered the opportunity to enjoy the next cycles.

The rest of the meeting passed by in a blur; Octane asked him a few questions, simple and mundane, and Soundwave’s answers had been brief and curt. No other mentions of his handler were made once the purple aerial dismissed him and Soundwave was glad for the small mercy. The trek back towards his quarters was uneventful, the only highlights being that the usually noisy arena was lacking the rumbling of stomping spectators and the atmosphere no longer buzzed with the need for blood lust and violence. He was almost inclined to say that it was peaceful but then he found himself skirting a puddle of freshly spilled Energon and purged that idea from his processor; there was no peace in the Pits, only the illusion of it.

He let out a vent of relief when he came upon the familiar door of his chambers and pressed his palm against the keypad. It buzzed and hummed for a moment before pinging its acceptance of his signature and opened to reveal the place he now called home. It was a modest living space; with a berth that was much too small for his boxy frame and a desk in the corner that served more as a shelf for the scarce miscellaneous trinkets he owned. The walls were grey and bare, the only decoration being deep gouges that crisscrossed the area around the berth; he’d tried to remove them several times but they always found a way to return and so he let them be.

He stepped inside and inhaled the musty scent, his HUD lighting up his glyphs urging him to finally recharge. He wanted to comply, desperately so but then he glanced into another corner and saw the tiny box full of mismatched mesh cloths and padding and he froze.

It was empty.

Again.

He felt his spark seize at the realization, phantom pain twisting it painfully in his chassis. Spark pain was not rare in the Pits, it was quite common in fact, and all gladiators were heavily encouraged to go see one of the Pit surgeons if they felt the telltale signs of the affliction. Nobody listened; baring your spark to another bot, even a medic (if they could even be called that), was jarring enough to make even the most reserved of warriors descend into a panic. As a result, death rates from spark related viruses were common and if he didn’t know any better, Soundwave would have attributed his own pain to a disease he’d unwillingly picked up.

But he knew the pain was not the result of some puny affliction. Viruses corroded your Spark, sapping the vigor from that glowing orb of energy until it dimmed and warped, the tiny connectors keeping it stable in the chamber rusted and failing. If you took a look at Soundwave’s spark, you would see a healthy green orb, a swirling vortex of strength and idiosyncrasy that was not uncommon among carrier mechs. Medics would say it was healthy.

But only a special breed of mechs would look closely and see the tiny fissures, those little cracks among the glass that protected his very life force. They’d notice the way his spark flared erratically every so often as tendrils sprouted and searched around their enclosure, seeking out connections that were no longer in existence but deeply missed. As if throwing a tantrum, another unsuccessful attempt would make his spark energy flare and the resounding force banged against the glass covering and added more to the webs of damage decorating its surface.

It helped to sit on his berth and stare expectantly at the door; he’d coax his spark into temporary submission with kind words and influxes of pleasant memories, fooling it into thinking that if it was patient enough, those it was yearning for would come back. The foolish little ball of energy would fall for it again and again, sitting idly in wait until either recharge claimed Soundwave or some other event diverted his attention elsewhere.

This time was no different. He lay his back and helm against the wall and stared, knowing already that no one was going to come through that door. His spark twisted at the stray thoughts and the subtle pain began once more, pulsing and hurting and reminding Soundwave of all that he’d lost. But unlike the other times, he let the pain remain and proceeded to press his chin against his chassis and simply endure.

Memories hidden behind a firewall in his mind rushed forward once the floodgates were opened and he stifled a hiss of pain at the sensations that coursed through him. There was only pain and suffering but like a masochist he reveled in it because at the very least he could see _them_ again without the nauseating sweetness of pleasant moments long past cloying on his glossa. He saw green optics riddled with fury and determination, a deep voice yelling at him to get back and protect while dimming golden optics stared up at him and a broken vocalizer begged for them to get away.

He saw his blunt fingers struggling to keep that silver frame together, trying to find places to mend amongst all the sticky blue and pink and silver but failing so utterly. His fingers were too big, too blunt, too uncoordinated and Primus, _he was hurting her_ —

The images blurred together at that point and when they finally came to a stop, the broken frame underneath his servos was different but oh so familiar. He’d recognize that black and green color scheme anywhere, even as it lay dented and stained with the polychromatic hues of his vital fluids. Green optics that once shone with a fervor were broken and dark, warm faceplates forever frozen in a guise of pain and horror.

His vision blurred, the static of his injured optics mixing with the unintelligible glyphs flashing across his broken HUD until all he could see was a kaleidoscope of _loss_ swirling around him…

It was with a warble of static that he pulled himself out of his memories, vents heaving and fans whirring as they struggled to dispel heat from his overheating systems. He placed a hand over his visor and tried to invent and exhale slowly, inwardly cursing as the reflux of emotions hit him harder than it had before.

But he couldn’t find it in himself to regret it. Part of it stemmed from his own affection for his two previous symbionts but the grand majority of it came from his own damned carrier coding.

Carriers were a dying breed and it was no surprise to anyone of their unfortunate brush with extinction. Such a revelation was part of the reason that he had been sparked in the first place. Undocumented sparkings happened almost every vorn, by bots who were too impatient to wait for the next awakening of Cybertron’s hot spots or by those who sought labor for illegal activities that would never willingly be given new sparks by a bot in their right mind. Undocumented sparking wasn’t illegal per say but it was taboo among the current population of Primus’ planet because so many things had the potential of going wrong, even under direct supervision of a licensed medical practitioner.

Organics always assumed that Cybertronians were machines who were manufactured on a daily basis, void of all emotions and who were only able to mimic personalities because of some highly advanced versions of programming. But such ideologies couldn’t be farther from the truth; sentience equated with emotions and all emotions, regardless of their feasibility to be acted upon, could be felt as deeply as any organic species’. It was the only reason bots even dabbled in useless pastimes such as art and music; such occupations were not a necessary addition to their society but they were necessary to the bots engaging in it because it brought them joy.

Soundwave had been sparked by a pair of artists that hailed from the most affluent centers of Crystal City; their names were forgotten, lost to the ages, but he remembered who they were. They were carriers, brought together when they found themselves courting the same symbiont, and as rigid aficionados of their own breed’s limits and potentials, their mutual interests kept them together. They took a long time to construct his frame; aiming for visual aesthetics and functionality, their solemn goal being peak efficiency. No-one knows where his Spark came from; some claim it was created via spark merge between his creators while others state that it’s entirely possible that they stole it from one of their local hot spots.

But Soundwave found that it really didn’t matter.

Because even if his spark had belonged to Primus himself, it didn’t make a difference. He had still ended up in that abandoned factory, broken and beaten and forgotten. Warfe and Stratis were both gone, their vibrancy absent and tiny broken frames lost to the elements.

And Soundwave’s spark was still in pain.


	2. Tacenda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Soundwave meets a pair of twin symbionts and Octane doubts.

 

_“In my heart, there was a kind_

_of fighting_

_that would not let me_

_sleep.”_

 

\--Hamlet

 

_“Frag!”_

The curse escaped Soundwave’s opponent in the form of a harsh growl, the black armored mech reeling back from the kick that had all but shattered half of his faceplates. A roar escaped the crowd when he reached up to gauge the damage and glanced down to see his palm glistening with the dark blue hue of spilled Energon; around them, spectators threw their servos up into the air, some hollering encouragement to the carrier mech while others proceeded to boo at the injured Gladiator. Soundwave could hear them all crystal clear, able to discern everything from the mech who had the beginning symptoms of rust in his undercarriage in the front row seat to the reedy voices of the nobles crying for macabre in the back row.

He heard Nueron’s dental plates clench with a mixture of pain and fury, his armor rattling as a shiver ran through his entire frame. He flared his ebony wings, showcasing the intricately woven golden decals that lined them in an effort to keep Soundwave on the defensive.

Soundwave took a few steps backwards, servos raised and battlecomputer whirring as he waited for Nueron to regain his bearings. A quick look at his chronometer told him that the timed match was nearing its end with only five breems left to endure.

The tournament had been lackluster in terms of opponents for Soundwave and he regretted not having listened when Octane had told him that his contenders were rookies. Because they were, in all sense of the word. Most were up and coming prodigies from other gladiatorial rings looking to garner some sponsors and there were a few who lacked fame but had enough skill to at least make Soundwave work for his victories. But the thrill of battle was absent, no charge coursed through his frame, no anticipation stimulated his adrenergic receptors.

The familiar threat of actually dying was absent.

Even when Nueron threw his helm back and let loose a scream of outrage, there was no energy. His attacks were predictable, flamboyant and lacked the subtlety necessary to get through the telepath's defenses. But he was strong; twice Soundwave had stifled a grunt when a roundhouse kick had been sent his way and he’d lifted a reinforced arm to protect his helm. The blow carried focus and power but lacked the finesse necessary to truly make it land its mark. Nueron’s punches were slow but they aimed at delicate points in his frame, indicating that he’d done his research and intended to exploit Soundwave’s weaknesses.

Normally such knowledge in the grasp of a skilled opponent could be deadly but for a young mech who was driven primarily by his eagerness to please nonexistent fans, it was rendered null. Sweeping underneath another rounded kick to his helm, Soundwave shattered Nueron’s supporting knee strut and twisted away as the mech fell down in a tumble of wings and flailing limbs. Less than a klik later the match bell sounded and the crowd let out a mixture of boos and hurrahs, many of them amused by Soundwave’s take down while the majority mourned another match void of anything minutely resembling a gory finish.

Nueron struggles to his feet, optics smoldering pools of anger, but he partakes in the ceremonial bow that officially signifies the end of their match in a draw. Soundwave returns it seamlessly, rising to his full height and turning away to make his way back towards the exit on his side of the arena. He hears the young mech let out indignant yelps as he struggles to make his own exit but the resounding clang tells that he’s unable to do so. Another pair of footsteps, this time running, sound from the other side and Soundwave knows that the rising star’s aspirations have shattered as he's no doubt hustled out of the way by a couple of pit medics.

In the dark alcove of the preparation room beneath the stands, he finds himself greeted by a peculiar scarlet mech. He’s short, all sharp angles and thin plating that looks like it would break at the slightest bit of pressure. But he shines in the dim light, smells of polish too expensive to be found in the meager remains of such a place and Soundwave is finds himself recoiling from him instinctively.

Red optics flicker with amusement, no doubt privy to his reaction. “You’re not injured, I hope?” His voice is deep and sultry and if Soundwave didn’t know any better, he’d be inclined to believe the mech was aiming for something other than medical assistance. But when Soundwave shakes his helm, the mech huffs and walks away and leaves the carrier mech in muted silence.

“Sounders!” The familiar designation makes his dental plates clench behind his battlemask but he’s careful not to let his annoyance flicker in his EM field. A lithe arm wraps around his shoulders, forcing him down and pressing his cheek against the polished derma of his boisterous handler.

Vel is sporting a light blue color scheme, green highlights accenting his lithe curves and green contact lens making his optics glow a disgusting neon green. He’s grinning wide enough to part his faceplates in two and that wild EM field is bursting with joy, a cocky undertone tangible beneath all the faux warmth he’s known for.

“You won’t believe the news I got for you, love!” He says, shrill voice unusually high. Soundwave knows the words are nothing more than proverbial word play; if he wanted, the carrier could glean the information right from the mech’s processor without ever having to hear another word escape those parted lips. But Vel has kept Soundwave’s telepathic capabilities under wraps for a reason and it never hurt to pretend that his favorite gladiator was anything less than a skilled, but simple, warrior.

Canting his helm to one side, Soundwave wordlessly urges the mech to continue and Vel doesn’t hesitate to do so. He reaches out to grab Soundwave’s hand, ignoring the fact that his clean plating was being smeared with the dirt and Energon caking the carrier’s blue alloy. Quickly but carefully, Vel maneuvers them through the maze of the gladiator’s quarters, sidestepping healing mechs and ushering nervous ones to the side with a well-placed glare. Of course, no one moved because they feared the tiny handler; they moved because they saw the large hulking figure of Soundwave, one of the stars of the tournament, with his dark blue plating that rippled with strength and that red visor and dented battlemask that made him look more like a drone than an actual mech.

The battlemask was a gift he’d given himself, molded from reinforced tungsten alloy he’d managed to buy off a vendor in the marketplace. It hid his scarred derma and allowed him to hide his expressive faceplates from observant opponents in the arena. Warfe had approved and Stratis had keened when she noticed that he’d made it a permanent accessory to his frame, mourning the visibility of the smile he reserved only for her.

He was snapped out of his melancholy by Vel’s voice and Soundwave caught up with the situation in time to see that his handler had delved into conversation with another mech. Both were looking expectantly at him, Vel’s optics glinting and the blue ones of the new addition’s inquisitive.

“Well?” Vel urges, pulling on Soundwave’s hand slightly. Blue optics go to their joined hands and a visible crease appears between the mech’s optic ridges. As if on cue, he offers a false smile and dips his helm in an ersatz apology.

“It’s quite alright, Vel. If you’ll excuse me, I have somewhere to be.” And with that, he was gone. Soundwave did not miss his presence but Vel certainly did. His hand disentangled from Soundwave’s and settled for grabbing his wrist, a much less personal contact that still allowed him to careen the gladiator wherever he so choose. Their destination turned out to be Vel and Octane’s personal observational box in the high reaches of the audience stands. It was a tiny box with a metal structure and gleaming glass that encased all sides of the cube. Plush seats with golden embroidery were seated in the middle and trays of various Energon goodies and cubes of high grade were scattered about, in easy reach for any who choose to indulge in them. Octane greeted them heartily from his own seat, raising a half empty cube of glowing yellow enex in their direction.

Vel snatched it without warning, downing it in one gulp and giving Octane’s aghast expression a sly smirk. “Thanks for the offering,” he snided as he slipped into the seat beside the purple aerial. There was no missing the way he arched his chest as he sat down, plating on his legs gleaming as he crossed one over the other and rested a hand on his knee. Vel was already bonded to another bot, a Senator he refused to name, but that didn't stop him from flirting with his business partner whenever the chance arose.

Octane huffed but his attention was immediately diverted to Soundwave; he looked a bit surprised to see the carrier but knew better than to ask so he simply played along. “Hey, my mech! I just managed to see the end of your fight. You went kinda easy on the kid, didn’t you?”

Soundwave, sitting on the chair closest to the exit, shook his head. “Nueron: inexperienced. Showcases potential.” It was an excuse disguised as sentimental folly and Octane was clever enough to discern it. But he made no further comments on the matter, instead turning towards Vel, EM field flickering questioningly.

He wanted to know why Vel had him brought up here.

Green eyes crinkling around the edges, Vel waggled a finger at him and shook his head. “You’ll see.” He crooned and Octane rolled his optics, focusing on the arena bellow. Two mechs were currently locked in battle, servos clasped as they pushed and pulled in the center of the arena in a blatant display of physical dominance. The crowd’s cheers were deafening and they only grew in octaves when one of the fighters managed to slam his helm against his opponent, shattering his optics and sending him reeling. For a moment, several members of the crowd feared that they’d be witnessing a replay of the previous match but before any hesitation could form in their minds, the injured mech let out a screech and launched himself at the other, fingers curled into claws that dug into the delicate neck cables of his opponent’s intakes. Blind and desperate, he pulled and scratched, each backswing revealing an arc of blue and pink, until the brief victor was left with a mess of twisted and ruptured fuelines. From there, it was all downhill.

Dental plates flashing, the half blind mech dove his head into the messy fray and with a few expert twists of his helm, he pulled back and revealed a twisted lump of metal in between his dentae. It was a voice box and he spat the offending organ on the floor as his opponent gurgled and choked on his own Energon, which was now gushing forth from his gaping lips like a broken geyser. He didn’t last very long; within breems, his writhing limbs went limp and his optics rolled into the back of his helm. His frame was already turning the familiar sickly grey when he was dumped onto the floor and the body had not even finished its descent downwards before spectators jumped out of their seat and let out a tumultuous roar.

Vel and Octane clapped their hands, the former a little more enthusiastically than the latter, and marveled at how the noise outside was making their glass enclosure vibrate. Lesser mechs would have been terrified but the two were content enough to focus entirely on the events down below. In the corner Soundwave nursed a cube of Energon, frame stiff as he observed silently.

To an outsider, he's venting calmly but for all his appearances of self-assertion, he’s uneasy, finding that he’s become unaware of Vel’s true intentions. Was it possible he only wanted Soundwave to accompany him just to observe something he partakes in every single orn? Soundwave knew what it felt like to have something precious ripped out of you by some other bot’s dentae, he knew the smell of Energon and how it differed from the bitter stench of coolant and transfluid…and he was well aware of the dizziness that accompanied the victor once he managed to emerge from the jaws of death with himself mostly intact.

He didn’t want to observe such a thing from a precipice of safety. And if Vel thought he was going to indulge in those sweet and savory snacks just strewn about, he was sorely lacking in his knowledge of Soundwave.

Fortunately, Vel didn’t plan on ignoring him for long. As the announcer called for a brief period of remission before the final fight, the blue mech turned to face him and beckoned him to sit beside in the open chair on his other side. For a moment, Soundwave hesitated but his curiosity was piqued and he complied, hating how the chair was so damn soft and how eagerly Vel offered the tray of assorted delicacies.

He lifted a hand in polite declination. “Query: purpose for being here?”

Octane seemed to be eager for an explanation as well because he cast an expectant glance at Vel, who merely smiled and set the treats down on the table in front of them. He pressed the tips of his fingers together and pressed them against his chin, humming thoughtfully. “There’s a fighter who recently enrolled into the tournament and I thought you’d be interested.” He paused, as if trying to choose his next words carefully. “He’s…a curious case. Not quite the fighter but he’s got some accessories that I think would intrigue you.”

_Accessories?_

Soundwave frowns. Vel had never been the kind to meddle with his affairs in such a way before. He ordered Soundwave to do a myraid of unpleasant things, both in and out of the pit, but he'd never presumed to know what kind of weaponry Soundwave used in his battles. They'd all agreed such decisions were to be made by Soundwave with everything else falling to Octane. Suddenly the carrier mech finds himself more than a little uneasy and he can tell from the flaring of Octane's own fields that he's not pleased with Vel's words either. But before either can repond, the crackle of the intercom and the increasingly loud accumulation of noise and shouting forced both of them to still, optics snapping towards the arena as the announcer’s deep and gravelly voice announced that the remission over and proceeded to begin introductions of the mechs involved the next fight.

The first contender was Diode; a yellow paneled mech with a domed helm that had his entire face hidden behind an opaque glass visor. He was broad-shouldered, with a slim waist and accented legs that spoke of a mech built for speed. There was no lack of dignity in the mech for he strode into the arena with a straight back and lifted hand that swiveled on his wrist in an amusing mimicry of a wave. He was flasby and Vel let out a squeal of delight when he pulled back his visor, revealing a rather handsome faceplate that were twisted into a grin of arrogant smugness. But for all his showboating, he ultimately proved to be lackluster when the announcer called the name of his opponent.

A green mech was striding out of the opposing arena entrance, pausing briefly to glance back before running forth with both arms raised in the air.

“Hardtop!" The announcer yelled, "And his twin menaces, Rumble and Frenzy!”

It wasn’t the mention of Hardtop that drove Soundwave to lean forward and grip the edge of the concessions table in pure shock. Sure, the mech was a carrier and his green frame bore the same boxy modifications typical of bots in their class type. But Soundwave’s attention was focused solely on the two minibots that stood out from the entrance behind him, tiny chests puffed out and hands placed on their hips as they hurried to catch up to their wayward carrier, twin visors flashing in pure defiance. One was a light purple from helm to pede, while the other sported deep scarlet and black hues. Despite their differing color schemes, their frames bore the same specs and their red visors flashed with something akin to smugness.

Symbionts.

They were _symbionts._

He could feel Vel smiling from his spot beside him, mouth full from the tangy oil cake he was now munching on. “Told ya.”

Octane raised an optic ridge, clearly not comfortable with the situation. He was one of the two who were privy to Soundwave’s recent loss and while he was not the most empathetic of mechs, Octane knew better than to go digging at old wounds. His scarlet optics watched Soundwave over the rim of his cube, wary. What would Soundwave do? Jump into the arena and steal the two minibots away into the dead of night? Or would he furrow back into the disgusting façade of self-pity and wallowing, too out of tune to even stand up straight in the arena?

Visor flashing, Soundwave titled his helm in his direction, EM field flaring with warning as he caught trace of the demeaning train of thought. Octane didn’t waver under his scrutiny and instead aimed a more deliberate question towards the telepath.

_Am I wrong?_

Soundwave didn’t dignify that question with an answer. Instead his attention went back to the fight and he watched as the match bell sounded and the two bots launched themselves at one another. Hardtop attacked first, diving into a head on assault while his symbionts circled around, moving in such perfect tandem that one would be hard-pressed to say they’d rehearsed their movements beforehand.

A resounding clang sounded as Diode and Hardtop slammed into one another, both of them struggling to get a grip on the other’s armor. Diode was mostly sharp angles and curves and the green carrier had difficulty getting a grip. But then again, Hardtop was sharp corners and his two circling symbionts added a careful level of distraction. For a moment, there was only scrambling and the symbionts circled a perimeter, waiting for an opening. But then Hardtop managed to bring a knee up towards Diode’s pelvic region and a wince went through most of the audience as the hit landed squarely in the yellow mech’s interface panel. A howl of agony escaped Diode and he pushed Hardtop back but the green carrier was relentless and reached out to dig his blunt fingertips into yellow shoulder armor. Using his momentum, Hardtop slammed Diode squarely in the chin with his own helm, a crack now visible on his shiny visor.

The two symbionts used that as an opportunity to launch themselves at the reeling mech; the red minibot lands on the yellow mech’s back, tiny hands digging into the delicate senor panels and arrays that rested between broad shoudlers. His blue twin aimed for the legs, dentae flashing as his fingers gripped and pulled and twisted armor out of the way and tiny dental plates sunk into the delicate wires and nodes that lay beneath. They moved fast, their actions so flurried they almost looked like monochromatic blurs.

Soundwave found himself enraptured by their performance, optics wide behind his visor as he saw the ferocity and the skill both symbionts wielded. He could tell that they were slightly out of sync with their host but there was a very archaic understanding between the three of them that they followed explicitly. Hardtop worked to use their distraction to his advantage and when he took the lead, the tiny minibots danced away, chassis stained with Energon, careful not to get in the green mech’s way. It was a dance Soundwave was more than familiar with and for the moment, his own pain and his aversion to the violence was put to the very back at his mind.

Between the three of them, they reduced Diode to a staggering mess of ruptured wires and exposed struts, his visor shattered and faceplates visibly stricken as he glanced around, trying to keep up with the three bots circling around him. The symbiont's chassis glistened in the light, the pink and blue hues mixing with their frames and giving them an ethereal sort of glow. There was a strength to them and Soundwave's Spark flared as he watched them finish the mech, sporting mirror grins as Diode's frame lay grey and dead long before the match bell even sounded. Hardtop reared his helm back and howled, armor rippling with dents and bruises but face parted in a feral toothy smirk.

When the announcer declared them the winners, Hardtop lowered his hands and walked back towards his entrance. The purple minibot and his twin had been in the process of picking at Diode's frame before they realized that their carrier was already heading back; with startled jumps, they sprinted to catch up and Soundwave frowned as he noticed that they both seemed to lose the aura of smugness the closer they got to exiting the arena. But before he could discern anything further, Hardtop disappeared and Soundwave was left suppressing a hiss of disappointment.

Vel smirked, lips glossy from the snacks he had been munching on. He extended a servo and rested it on the small of Soundwave's back, rubbing soothingly. Soundwave stiffened at the contact, turning to regard his handler over the cusp of his shoulder. There was a familiar glint in those neon green optics and Soundwave narrowed his optics, the euphoria of watching the bots his coding called out for fading in the wake of the match's end.

"What's your deal?" Octane hissed from Vel's other side, surging forward in his seat to grab the blue mech's shoulder. Immediately, Vel's optics hardened and his lips pursed into a thin line as he regarded the offending hand on his frame; Octane snatched it back but the indignition in his field remained. He wasn't happy.

Vel let out a heavy sigh, shaking his helm before relaxing into the plushness of the seat behind him. He stretched his frame sinuously, usual smile returning to his lips as he settled and eyed both mechs with bemusement.

"My, my, you two act like I've sold your sparks to the Unmaker." He snorted. "Relax. Hardtop is one of mine. I found him in a small ring in Ithrex and bought his contract. This doesn't mean I don't love you any less, Sounders--" Vel admonished as he sensed Soundwave's surprise, "--it just means that we have an opportunity to make more funding."

"What?" Octane muttered, clearly not catching on.

Vel stared at Soundwave for a moment, faceplates softening briefly before he shrugged and adopted his usual faux warmth facade. "Credits, my dear Octane. Carriers are becoming quite the spectacle and if we play our cards right we could have another attraction to bring in the nobles into Kaon."

"Huh."

Soundwave hated how easily Octane was convinced when conversations involving money were brought up. He'd gotten used to it over the vorns, after listening to Vel and him argue over whether setting Soundwave up in a death match was worth it in the face of the monetary compensation, but that didn't mean he'd learned to like it. But he hated the looks Vel was casting in his direction as the moment's intensity died down, his green optics glowing wistfully as if he were trying to get Soundwave to understand some unspoken point.

He almost laughed.

Did Vel expect him to be grateful for showing him an example of everything he should be? Should he be grateful another carrier, one with _living_ symbionts, was now going to be occupying the halls of the arena he called home? Reminding him how he'd failed to protect his own, how he'd been unable to provide the most basic necessity for the two bots that had loved and trusted him enough to place their lives in his hands?

No.

Something else was on Vel's mind and for the first time since he'd known the mech, Soundwave was reluctant to find out what it was.


	3. Catalyst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rumble and Frenzy lose and gain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This particular story is not in chronological order so apologies if you find yourself off balance for a bit. Hopefully it'll clear up as the story gets going.

_“We are all strange_

_We just became good_

_At pretending to be normal.”_

 

—Atticus

 

Soundwave sat on the edge of the berth, balancing a grumbling Frenzy in his lap while his servos worked on repairing the damaged shoulder joint of the youngest of his twin symbionts. Rumble sat on his shoulders, legs draped on either side of his neck and his tiny servos held onto Soundwave’s helm to watch him work in careful consideration. Occasionally Rumble would make a crude joke and Frenzy would whine indignantly, momentarily ignoring his pain and looking up at his master with a pout.  


“Make him stop!” Frenzy would say and Rumble would duck behind Soundwave’s large helm, his laughter rumbling through his whole body and sending tremors down the carrier’s spinal strut. Sometimes Soundwave would send a sharp glance at his uninjured symbiont but other times he’d pretend he wasn’t listening; regardless of Rumble’s crude words, his intentions were somewhat pure. It took Frenzy’s mind off of the pain for a while and the gathering black cloud hanging over the red and black little mech would dissipate before it got too cumbersome.  


When he was done, he’d have Frenzy hop onto the floor, going through his routine list of exercises to make sure the joint wasn’t experiencing any discomfort. Rarely did Soundwave ever have to make adjustments (he was far too methodical to be sloppy in the first place) but it eased all of their minds to see positive results nonetheless. Rumble would let out a small whoop of joy and tackle his twin, barreling him over in a not-so-gentle display of relief and excitement. Soundwave watched them from the corner of his optics, gathering his tools into his small toolbox and hiding it under his berth, making sure it was well out of sight before rising to his full height. A small cry of pain went through the room as Frenzy managed to kick Rumble in the faceplate and it was that moment that Soundwave choose to intervene.  


“Rumble. Frenzy. Cease activities.” He said sternly, looming over the ball of flailing limbs that was his two symbionts. Rumble gave Frenzy a hard shove and stood up, dusting himself up and pretending not to notice his twin’s glower as he followed suit. There was no malice in their actions, however, it was simply the way they were around each other.  


“Sorry, Boss.” Rumble said, shrugging apologetically. His fans were whirring from his bout of activity and a tiny scuff mark was visible on his chin, courtesy of Frenzy’s pede.  


“Sorry, my aft.” Frenzy hissed, patting his newly repaired joint. “You nearly ruined Soundwave’s work, you half bit!”

The blue mech was wise not to respond to his twin’s outcries, instead choosing to step over them and head for the other side of the small room that housed the overhead projector. Immediately, both symbionts perked up, visors flashing with glee as they watched their master pull down the small mesh material that acted as their makeshift screen for movie nights.  


Rumble immediately ran over to help, jumping up to grasp the edges of the mesh and swinging down until the apparatus clicked and the screen held down on it’s own. Frenzy pulled the small beanbag he and Frenzy shared into the middle of the berth room, grinning despite the fact that his newly repaired arm was still not up to pulling and pushing things yet.  


“What movie are we watching, Boss?” The small red and black symbiont asked, plopping down into the chair and staring up expectantly at Soundwave. Rumble joined him not long after, careful not to jostle his arm.  


“Query: Preference, action or romance?” Soundwave asked as he plugged into the small projector in front of the screen.  


“Action!” Rumble screamed, punching his tiny fists into the air. Frenzy had his mouth opened to say something but he quickly clamped his mouth shut, glowering.  


“Frenzy?” Soundwave’s tone was gentle and even if it wasn’t noticeable in his monotone voice, the prickle of his EM field spoke volumes of his intentions.  


“I was gonna say romance,” the small symbiont quipped, fidgeting in embarrassment as both mechs turned to look at him. There was an odd air to him as he spoke, his hand climbing up to graze his repaired arm with something akin to unease. Memories of the fight were no doubt fresh in his mind and while Frenzy was no pushover, nearly being ripped in half wasn’t something you shook off so easily.

Immediately, Rumble cleared his throat, hands falling into his lap. “Oh…yeah, uh, romance, Boss. We watched _Hurricane’s Revenge_ last movie night. So long as this romance isn’t sappy, we’re cool.”

Soundwave titled his helm, amused. “Romance movie, stars Jespa.’ He said softly, mentioning the quiet medic that both twins were fond of. She’d been an actress on Nebulous in her past and had often told the twins about her tales of acting. While both twins had been eager to know more, Jespa had kept it quiet and it wasn’t until recently that she’d found an old digital copy of one of her movies and discreetly given to Soundwave for “safekeeping.”

Frenzy lightened up at the mention of the femme and Rumble grinned, nodding. “Sounds like a plan!” Soundwave uploaded the digital copy and waited patiently until the beginning credits began to roll, taking that as his cue to step around his settled symbionts and sit on the berth on the other end of the room. His lips twisted into a grimace as he finally relaxed, glancing down at the wounds that littered his frame. They were small and superfluous but were unfortunately stuck on places that were deemed critical; his hip joints, his wrists, nicks and tears that had clotted up since the battle but had lacked the proper medical attention. Taking out his own personal tools from his subspace, he worked under the guise of the film’s audio, one optic on the film while the other focused on his own repairs. The film was relatively easy to follow; Jespa’s character was that of a scientist who was attempting to find a cure for some disease and her love interest was a mech that had opposing views on how to tackle the situation. Both were assigned to work on the same project and while their awkward interactions were humorous, the dialogue and plot were relatively competent.  


Once or twice Rumble laughed and Frenzy giggled, both of their EM fields content and swirling around one another in lazy bliss. It was so different from when they had been with him in the arena, fighting beside him against a mech that had turned out to be a lot more trouble than any of them had anticipated.  


Ruination. Soundwave had never fought the mech before but he had a reputation of being a brute; powerful and brash, what he lacked in finesse he more than made up for it in strength. Rumble and Frenzy had been tasked with attacking discreetly, using Soundwave’s engagement of the mech as distraction to sneak onto his frame and attack the wires and joints to slowly take away his structural integrity. It had worked for a while but apparently pure strength of willwas enough to keep a frame going and in a moment of distraction, Frenzy had slipped on some Energon and Ruiniation had grabbed a hold of the tiny bot with what should have been a deactivated servo.  


Rumble had screamed, too; in fury and pain as the mech’s grip on his twin’s arm traveled like fire through their bond. Soundwave had frozen in fear, just for a second, and though he had no bond with the symbionts, the agony had been palpable in their screams and it had kicked his carrier protocols into overdrive. He couldn’t recall exactly what happened in the moment before he attacked and the moment he stood over the ruined frame of the bot who dared touch his symbiont. He hadn’t exactly blacked out but his processor hadn’t offered any viable data to tell him exactly what his frame had done; he assumed his battle protocols had kicked in but he couldn’t be sure. Regardless, judging by the Energon dripping off his frame and the triumphant and thankful looks of the bots looking up at him, he assumed it had been favorable.  


Ruination was dead. And Soundwave, Rumble and Frenzy were alive. That was all that mattered.  


Rumble let out a small groan of disgust and Soundwave glanced up, catching sight of the two protagonists pressing their helms together in a sign of intimate solidarity. The dialogue was tedious and poetic, their smooth voices dripping with charisma.  


It was, as Rumble would describe it, “sappy.” But it made Frenzy grin and his EM field spiked with true enjoyment at the beholding of such a tender moment. Soundwave fixed a small circuit in his wrist, tightening it so that it wouldn’t make his appendage’s movement tick. In an instant, the pain in that area was gone and Soundwave let out a silent sigh, relief flooding in his flame. It took a small amount of time to finish the rest of his repairs and by the time he was done, the film was in the middle of its climax and the gladiator settled into a sitting position on the berth and proceeded to watch the film with quiet bemusement.  


It wasn’t the film that had his attention, however. It was the sounds that the two tiny bots on the floor were creating; Rumble’s were obnoxious and meant to rattle his twin but Frenzy’s were subtler, sensed through the flutter of his EM field and the ever-changing state of his faceplates. He awed when the protagonists triumphed in a small skirmish, laughed when innuendos were made and grimaced when obstacles were met.  


It was like watching sparklings watching their favorite show; granted, the two symbionts were anything but children, however their small frames had them bearing smaller sparks and processors and as a result, their functions were much more simplified.  


Not that they were stupid nor were they innocent. They were simply more blunt, honest. They didn’t waste processor power on pretending for the sake of other’s appeasement. They were who they were and held no regrets over it. They lacked the social flexibility of mechs and femmes and such personalities coupled with their small stature made them easy targets for more chaotic bots. Symbionts needed carriers to offer protection, physical if not emotional and carriers needed them to appease their coding. They were built for one another, simple as that.  


They were a dying breed, the both of them, especially since carriers were seen as commodities among the underground pit fighting rings. Like twins, carrier’s coding brought about unexpected reactions when put in precarious situations and the bosses relished the spectacle such unpredictability brought about. If the carrier was killed, it didn’t matter much; Soundwave had seen it happen before, after all. Carriers would die screaming if their symbionts were killed and vice versa and such messy deaths provided entertainment if nothing else.  


His servos tightened as he recalled how close he’d been to having the twins taken away from him; if he’d been slower, even by a moment…the other mech could have very well torn the smaller bot in half. Soundwave relied on databursts to communicate with the symbionts, lacking a proper connection since the two twins had still refused to form a quantum bond with him. They called him boss and trusted him to guide them in battle…but for some reason they didn’t trust him enough to achieve full symbiosis.  


It wasn’t that they didn’t know how to achieve it; Soundwave had learned of them through Jespa, who told him she had two critical symbionts who had previously lost their carrier in a previous battle. Soundwave had been down in the medical ward in an instant and had sat beside them for orns until they’d woken up screaming and thrashing from memories of their battle.  


But then Soundwave had placed his servo around their own (they were so fragging small) and the screaming turned into crying and subsided into soft whimpers, eventually ebbing into silence. Jespa said it was coding; they recognized that he was a carrier, and though he wasn’t their own, he calmed them enough to tether them to a saner reality. He had stayed like that for two solar cycles, leaving only when it came time to prepare for his next upcoming battle. Jespa informed him that while they were fidgety, they were stable and would make it through the vorns. Apparently, their bond with their previous carrier hadn’t been strong enough to break them or rather their sparks were too strong to follow their carrier to the afterlife. If there even was one, that is.    


Frenzy had been the first to warm up to him. One orn Soundwave had wandered into the medical bay nursing a hanging arm and the small symbiont had been the first to tend to him, looking up at him with an indiscernible scrutiny before grabbing his good arm and guiding him to an empty corner of the medical bay. It wasn’t sanitary but Soundwave expected no pleasantries from such a place; but he did not expect the tiny symbiont to to start working on staunching the Energon leaks in his appendage. His tiny servos were shaky but they were effective in their work, able to reach past injured plates to weld critical fuel lines together to prevent any more loss of vital fluids. Frenzy’s face was a mask of resolution, twisting only when he concentrated on his task and when he finished, he’d cast a bashful glance up at the mech and scampered off, shadowing the medic who saved his life and keeping a careful distance. Unlike his brother who pretended that Soundwave didn’t exist, Frenzy watched him carefully every time he moved and his optics carried a sense of awe and fascination that mirrored Soundwave’s own emotions.  


Jespa said Frenzy was sweet on him and while Rumble was still a little fickle, he too showcased interest, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. It was pride, the medic explained, some of which had been badly beaten when they lost their carrier. Apparently, their previous master had tried to use them as a shield when he met his end and the betrayal had left the blue mech feeling hurt at a psychospiritual level. The recollection of their near-death experience had made Soundwave angry and he wished he had been able to meet the other carrier mech before his demise, if only to have him perish at his own servos.  


It took a total of five joors for Rumble to finally approach him of his own volition and it occurred in the most unlikely of places. Soundwave had been gathering his own Energy rations at the dispensary, collecting his cubes and paying the distributor with the meager credits that his fights gained him. Rumble burst in while he was halfway through his purchase, tiny fist raised to display the credits he had in his grasp. His faceplates were flushed from running and he had no qualms with being loud with his entrance; the distributor bot glared down at the approaching symbiont with a curled lip and he slammed a fist on the desk surface, optics narrowed with distaste.  


“Rumble,” the mech hissed, not even bothering to be pleasant. “I thought I told you you’re not welcome in here.”

“Ah, shut up, Hux.” Rumble grumbled, stopping beside Soundwave’s foot and placing a tiny hand on the carrier’s ankle. Tiny red visor stared up at the lithe gladiator, credits raised up in his direction. “Frenzy and I got the money for our cubes, boss. I forgot to give you our credits before you went on your way out.”

Soundwave paused for a moment, optics darting between the tiny mech and extended credits, bemusement flickering in his EM field. Not missing a beat, he bent down to take the two credits and offered them to the distributor, a smile hidden behind his visor and faceplate.  


“Two more cubes,” Soundwave said softly.

Hux narrowed his optics, suspicion burning in his green optics. It was obvious the mech didn’t want to accept the money but he wasn’t brash enough to question whether or not Soundwave and Rumble were even acquainted. Within moments, the credits were taken and two cubes were put on the table, both of which Soundwave collected and carefully handed to the symbiont at his feet. Rumble accepted them with a hum of approval and turned on his pedes, sticking out his glossa at Hux as he followed Soundwave out the door.  


Once outside, the symbiont grumbled and turned to leave but Soundwave called out to him, forcing him to freeze in his tracks. Looking somewhat bashful as he pivoted his torso towards Soundwave, Rumble grimaced and let out a dramatic sigh.  


“I suppose you’re expecting some sort of thanks from me, ain’t ya? Well, lemme tell you something, mister, I—“ He trailed off when a flash of silver caught his optics, mouth hanging open when he saw the two credits held out in offering by the carrier mech. Managing to save his dignity, he jerked his head back as if Soundwave had just offered him some mech’s dismembered spike on a stick.

“Whoa! What gives?”

Soundwave merely gave a small dip of his head, “Monetary compensation not necessary. Energon cubes: gifts.”

For a moment, Rumble looked like he wanted to accept the credits but then he let out a small snort and shook his helm. “Thanks, but I don’t like mooching off mechs and giving them something to hold over my helm in the future. I paid, you provided. That’s all.” A ghost of a smile played upon his lips as he took a small step back, the glow of the cubes highlighting the subtle curves around his mouth. “See ya.”  


And with that, the little symbiont scampered off towards the medical bay, tiny pedes tapping on the floor until he disappeared down the hall. Soundwave couldn’t help but feel a little glimmer of satisfaction bubbling in his chest and when he walked back to his own quarters, any careful observer could’ve told you that his step was lighter and his back was a little straighter.


	4. Eucatastrophe

_“Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art…It has no survival value, rather it is one of those things that give value to our survival.”_

—C.S Lewis

 

The first time both symbionts talked to him together at the same time had been after one of Soundwave’s most difficult fights some time later; a match against a sword wielding mech with an impressive amount of speed had the carrier mech riddled with enough apertures to cause a massive lag in his systems even after his victory and he had been escorted to the medical bay with the aid of Jespa’s assistant. Rumble and Frenzy had been sitting on one of the empty berths, sharing a sticky sweet between them in quiet bliss but when Soundwave had been dragged in, they both started and had jumped off to meet him with looks of aghast on their tiny faces. Rumble was the first to speak, his voice hard and laced with worry. Frenzy stared at the scene with wide optics, too stunned to speak. The treat was on the floor, completely forgotten.

“What happened?” Rumble asked, standing beside his brother at the head of Soundwave’s berth.   


Jespa spoke without looking up, servos outstretched and receiving the welding instruments from her assistant with the speed and precision of a medic who had vorns of practice backing up her movements. “Multiple lacerations to his vital points,” she said tersely, prying open Soundwave’s ruined paneling to reach the severed circuitry underneath. There was no anesthetic to be administered nor was there time to be as tidy as one would prefer, so Jespa’s movements were done with little warranty for the mech’s pain receptors.   


Soundwave felt the pain deeply but he forced himself to remain still, optics shuttered and dental plates gritted as each spark of the welder brought his sensitive wiring back together and slowly staunched the flow of his previous inner fluids. Errors swam across his visor and he tried to take his mind off the pain by reorganizing his self repair routines, focusing on the vital points that Jespa had yet to reach. A particular spark near the glass of his Spark chamber sent a fresh spasm of pain throughout his entire frame and his back arched unwillingly off the slab, a guttural groan sounding in his vocalizer.   


Immediately, soft servos lay on either side of his helm and the pain was momentarily forgotten as a soothing EM field touched the edges of his, too small to envelop it but powerful enough to mesh. Gold optics widened behind his visor to stare up at the faceplates of Rumble, who gazed down at him with worry and determination lighting his optics.   


“ _Don’t you dare die_ ,” he hissed softly, kneeling down so that their foreheads were separated by mere inches. “You need to hang in there.”

Suddenly the world seemed to dissolve and the noise that had thundered in his audios and the unspoken thoughts feeding into his telepathic module blurred to become white noise in the background. The pain in his frame disappeared and all that was tethering Soundwave to reality was that tiny little visor, that familiar little grimace that was so distinctly Rumble.   


He wanted to say yes, to let the little mech know that he understood and that he’d do as he was told. But before he could even think of the words to say, pain burned through his entire frame and the world went black.   


 

~~~

 

Soundwave awoke to music.   


Not music, but a melodious harmony, produced in the way of a hum that was coming from the two mechs curled on either side of his helm. At first he thought it was intentional but the tune was foreign and when he shuttered his optics to the dim light of what appeared to be his own hab suite, he saw that both symbionts were currently deep in recharge.   


Curious, he slowly turned his helm to stare at Frenzy and he noted that the sound wasn’t being made by the tiny red and black mech’s vocalizer. It seemed to be…coming from their entire frame. Their tiny bodies were vibrating at a subtle frequency, a soothing pulse reached deep into their EM fields and resonated with Soundwave’s own.   


It made his Spark warm and his repaired frame seemed to ache a little less, providing a comfort he didn’t even know he needed. A small sigh escaped him and that automatically had both symbiont’s visors flashing online, tiny heads rising in synchronization as they glanced around themselves warily before turning their attention on him.   


Frenzy let out a small gasp, “Soundwave?” He asked tentatively, a tiny servo held up between them as if he intended to touch the waking mech.   


His twin let out an audible tsk. “Of course it is, you half-bit. Who’d you expect, Megatronus?”

“You don’t have to be so mean, you stagger.” Frenzy retorted, outstretched servo curling into a fist and shaking violently in his twin’s direction.   


The two descended into a verbal argument and while the loud voices made Soundwave’s helm ache, he couldn’t help but revel in the noise. His optics quietly regarded the two bots who were now on their pedes and wrestling lightly, Rumble cursing and Frenzy retaliating with words that would have been blaspheming to Primus but would have made Unicron smile. Maybe it was the lightheadedness of waking up from stasis or maybe Frenzy’s pout was indeed as funny as it looked but for whatever reason, the amusement in Soundwave bubbled over and he couldn’t contain it in himself anymore.

A light chuckle, barely a whisper, escaped him and both symbionts paused their bickering, frames frozen and optics wide as they turned to regard him. As Soundwave’s breathy laughs pierced the darkness, both of them disentangled themselves and before long, they joined in. Symbionts laughed with relief and carrier chuckled from genuine amusement; and though their voices were anything but in tune, Soundwave couldn’t help but think that it was the sweetest tune he’d ever heard in his lifespan.   


When it ended, both little bots were sitting on the berth, leaning back to rest on their braced arms and grins wide on their faces. They were relaxed and happy, emotions that neither of them had been able to experience in a very long time. It felt very nice and they basked in the afterglow of the experience, content to simply be in one another’s presence. They were in the darkest depths of the planet, in a Pit where death and misery and despair reigned; Soundwave was a relic of a forgotten past, Rumble and Frenzy the broken remnants of a partnership borne out of fear and necessity. But in that moment, they weren’t broken. They were whole.

“Your hab suite’s too small,” Rumble said, voice readopting it’s clipped tone.   


Soundwave turned to regard him, curious. “Chambers are standard regulation.” He replied. “Bigger suite, unattainable.”

The blue symbiont shrugged, “Yeah well, me and Frenzy have a bunch of stuff stashed away in Jespa’s med bay so unless you’re okay with it getting a little cluttered, you’re gonna be dealing with a bunch of crap.”   


Soundwave could do nothing but stare at the tiny mech in pure shock. Frenzy stifled a grin by pressing his servos over his mouth but his mirth was causing his EM field to spike like crazy, crackling like a lightning storm in the air.   


“What?” Rumble asked, feigning innocence when he turned to meet Soundwave’s surprised look. “Do you mind having me and Frenzy move in? Because if you do, I heard that—“

“Soundwave: very glad.” The carrier mech would have said more if he could but somehow he knew that Rumble was more than satisfied with the brief response; a grin danced across his lips, his optics crinkling around the edges and white dental plates flashing. Soundwave couldn’t help but feel a blossom of warmth spread through his chassis at the sight; maybe it was his carrier programming kicking in but the gladiator would have fought any mech to the death who said that such a sight wasn’t the most beautiful in all the world.


	5. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which trust is earned.

_“And now that you don't have to be perfect,_

_you can be good.”_

—John Steinback

 

Soundwave was quick to help the two bots settle into his habsuite once his injuries healed and when his handler came to check up on his progress, the carrier mech made sure the two bots were visibly at ease. Vel expressed nothing but support at his newest additions and even though he said that funds for their supplements would come from his own rations, Soundwave didn’t care. 

Rumble and Frenzy were his. 

Even if they were in the middle of courting, a quantum bond not yet cementing their relationship, Soundwave knew he’d protect the tiny symbionts with everything that he was. He’d remind them what true symbiosis was like; a relationship forged on respect and trust, carrier protecting and symbionts dutifully serving. He bought them treats using his own funds when they finally began to participate in his training sessions, providing incentives when they were successful and gently correcting when they failed. Both symbionts proved to be quite adept fighters despite their tiny size; equipped with pile drivers and small lasers and blasters, they were like tiny warriors who made up what they lacked in strength with finesse and accuracy. 

It wasn’t until their first fight together that Soundwave was able to see the true potential of their makeshift group. Their opponent was a small mech named Grood that had recently made a name for himself after winning three matches in a row after his introductory fight. He was built with reinforced armor, a modified shoulder mounted missile launcher serving as his weapon of choice because of the long distance advantages it provided. He was a rookie, fresh and bursting with potential, and Soundwave knew the Pit bosses had arranged such a fight merely for the sake of making a quick credit. 

Soundwave was superior to the tiny mech in almost every way but he would offer nothing but his best in a show of respect for the other bot. Rumble and Frenzy were silent as they waited behind the closed entrance of the arena, tiny feet shuffling as they heard the boom of the cheering crowd as Grood made his entrance, the atmosphere palpable with the crowd’s lust for macabre and spectacle. Soundwave stood poised, arms crossed over his chestplate and gaze fixed directly on the cement wall. 

It wasn’t until Frenzy let out a small and uneasy sigh that both his twin and Soundwave looked down, the former annoyed and the latter curious. 

“What is it now, bit brain?” Rumble seethed, voice not at all comforting. 

Frenzy shot a nasty look at his twin but when he caught Soundwave’s gaze, he tucked his helm, shaking it vigorously. “It’s nothing. Just…nervous.”

Immediately, Soundwave pivoted on his feet and kneeled down in front of the symbiont, pulling back his visor and faceplate to look the tiny mech in the optics. “Frenzy, afraid?”

“No!” The red mech’s cry of indignation rang through the empty room and he cringed as the sound bounced off the walls, his tiny servos clenching into fists at his side. Grimacing he met Soundwave’s gaze head on, visor flashing defiantly. “I’m not afraid.”

For once, Rumble was quiet.

Soundwave placed a servo on Frenzy’s shoulder, firm but supportive. “Soundwave not Hardtop,” he said softly. “Soundwave, protect Rumble and Frenzy.” He paused, allowing the words to sink in before he finished. “Promise.”

“Words are just words,” Rumble said softly, staring up at Soundwave with something akin to pain flashing in his visor. “They don’t mean anything.”

Soundwave pursed his lips, but before he could think of something to say, the familiar yellow light flashed above the door, blinking to alert the mechs that their appearance on the arena floor was about to commence. The carrier cast a look at each of the symbionts silently, wanting to say so many things. But knowing that he couldn’t, he retook his position, visor and faceplate snapping back into place. 

When the door retreated and the light slowly began to flood the dark passage, Soundwave compressed a small data burst and sent it silently to both mechs, optics never leaving their gaze. 

Surprise went through the two symbionts but when the announcer called their names and they took their first steps onto the arena floor, Soundwave felt their EM fields surge with a new and completely different emotion.

Understanding. 

And as the battle commenced, the feelings shifted. Wariness when Grood launched the first barrage of missiles, forcing the carrier and symbionts to scatter and hide among the dust clouds left in the wake of the exploding projectiles. Soundwave took out his sonic blaster, sending his first attack in the direction where the other mech stood and forcing the mech to change positions. 

Rumble and Frenzy slithered through the cloud of dust and emerged out front, running towards the mech and firing their blasters with symmetrical ferocity. Grood sent a rocket their way and pulled a small vibroblade out from a small space in his armor panels, holding up to bear as he expected them both to launch themselves into a direct attack.

But then the wariness turned into momentary smugness when they diverged a few feet away from him and circled him on either side, one aiming at his helm while the other attacked his ankle joints. 

Grood didn’t even have time to think about his attack; his optics had barely registered on the twins before he caught sigh of different movement, this time from up above. Soundwave had jumped out of the cloud of dissipating dust, a large vibroblade poised in one servo as he hurled through the air towards the smaller mech. 

Grood felt the symbiont’s blasts shatter one of his ankle joints but he noticed too late and when he fired one of his rockets at the flying mech, he felt his weight give and the trajectory was off. It was a nanometer but it was enough for Soundwave to dodge in the air and before Grood could even think, the vibroblade dug into his helm and his processor and upper half of his torso were sliced neatly in half. 

Energon sprayed from the falling mech’s dismembered frame, rivets flowing from apertures and ruptured fuel lines spraying pink life fluids onto the twins and Soundwave, painting their armor a psychedelic purple. For a moment, the crowd was silent, as if disbelieving that a fight had lasted so little. 

But when Soundwave leaned down and gently grabbed the symbionts in his grasp and hoisted them onto his shoulders, the air began to prickle with anticipation. Two bulky arms raised gracefully into the air, purple armor shining with bodily fluids and rippling with a quiet strength in the light of the neon spotlights. 

The crowd let out a deafening cheer. 

Bots stomped their feet and clapped their hands, the thrill of a good kill crackling through the atmoshperic air.

_SOUNDWAVE!_

_SOUNDWAVE!_

_SOUNDWAVE!SOUNDWAVE!SOUNDWAAAAAAVVVVEEEE—!_

The announcer let out a string of propaganda, reciting Soundwave’s name a couple times before adding, “AND GIVE IT UP FOR HIS TWO NEW PARTNERS IN CHAOS, HARDTOP’S FORMER LITTLE TWIN TERRORS, RUMBLE AND FRENZY!”

Rumble and Frenzy raised their arms in tune with the cheers, strong voices chanting their own names and drowning in the bliss of victory and faux acceptance. Their EM fields shifted to encompass another emotion, one they never thought they’d feel again in the arena.

_Joy._


	6. Serendipity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which revelations are shared and bonds are formed.

_“I still remember the silence_

_And how we'd always find a a way to turn and run to our mistakes_

_I still remember how it all came back together…_

_...just to fall apart.”_

  
\--Andria, 'La Dispute'

 

 

  
Rumble and Frenzy were always known as Hardtop’s. In the arena, in the training rooms and among the other gladiators that strode past them in the halls, the name of their former carrier followed them everywhere they went. For a while, both pretended not to notice.   
   
They fumed when mechs jostled them, grimaced when minibots murmured under their breaths and cast glares at their backs…but then they’d glance up at the dark and sullen image of Soundwave and bask in the shadow of his protection. He never outright claimed it…but they were his. And not in a materialistic sense, either. And they’d forget the mention of their former carrier, somber and painful memories pushed to the back of their minds.  
   
But it wasn’t until a large mech known as Maywinds blocked Soundwave in the hall one day, forcing the trailing twins to halt and reflexively transform their arms into piledrivers, that they began to realize that they actually cared about the rumors swirling around about them. Maywinds was a bulky mech, bearing the undeniably dense frame of a former miner that had been altered and reinforced to carry small pockets where weapons and other little surprises could be kept and easily accessed. He towered over Soundwave and his mismatched optics trailed over the darkly colored carrier frame with something akin to lurid interest; when his gaze fell on his two symbionts, a growl escaped him and he let out a dry chuckle when they took a reflexive step backwards.   
   
“Finally found someone to leech off of, you little parasites?”  
   
Rumble hissed, “Frag you.”  
   
Maywinds grinned, exposing stained and sharp dental plates between those thin lips of his. “You’d wish you could, you little scrapplet.” He took a step forward but before he could even lean towards his targets, he bumped into Soundwave who had sidestepped to intercept the bigger mech. For a moment, Maywinds looked ready to attack the carrier mech but then something flashed in his optics and he leaned back, hands falling gracefully to his hips.   
   
“Now, now, Soundwave. I was only teasing.”    
   
Soundwave silently stared the mech down, EM field so tense that it was wound around him like a rubber band. Rumble and Frenzy knew that if the other gladiator so much as took a step towards them, Soundwave would intervene. While that knowledge made them grateful, they weren’t too keen on seeing him get into a fight. Vel had reprimanded Frenzy for cursing out a mech once by cutting his rations in half for an orn…they couldn’t afford that to happen, not again.

Maywinds raised an optic ridge, not at all fazed. But then something flashed through his optics and his mouth pursed into a thin fine line. “They’re going to get you killed, Soundwave. You know that, don’t you?” His voice adopted a softer tone but it still dripped with acid as he reached up to trace a digit over Soundwave’s empty chest compartment. His touch was not gentle but for a gladiator known for ripping out the sparks of his enemies with his bare servos, it was almost akin to the caress of a lover. “They got Hardtop killed. They’ll do the same to you if you don’t put them out of their misery—“ he proceeded to smile seductively, sharp digit curling into a small groover near Soundwave’s shoulder joint. “They’re cursed. Always have been, always will be.”  
   
The invading digit fell from Soundwave’s armor, the offending hand falling to Maywind’s side. Sensing the tenseness in all three bots, he let out a small laugh and stepped aside, smile never leaving even after Soundwave continued moving, both symbionts rushing in between his legs to emerge away from the other gladiator. None of them said a word until they reached their hab suite and when the door closed behind them, Rumble let out a shriek of fury and dove towards the beanbag he and Frenzy shared on the floor.   
   
“THAT SLAGGIN’ SON OF A GLITCH!” His blunt digits dug into the soft material, uselessly digging into the fabric for a couple frantic moments before it finally gave and the symbiont’s digits were tearing out the soft lining of the seat. Frenzy joined him not long after, grabbing Soundwave’s chair from the small desk he had but very rarely used and smashing it into pieces with his piledrivers. The sound of metal shrieking as it shattered filled the room and Soundwave watched as the two symbionts went on a rampage, tearing apart their small toys and furniture, leaving nothing but a trail of chaos in their wake.   
   
Profanities thundered in the air, their tiny vocalizers screaming so hard they nearly went static.  
   
“SLAGGER!”  
   
“AFT-SUCKING SPAWN OF UNICRON!”  
   
“DAMMIT!”  
   
“FRAG!!”  
   
It lasted for a good time, maybe a joor or two and Soundwave waited patiently until both were on their knees, huffing and puffing with their tiny fans whirling as their frames struggled to expel all the excess heat from their systems. Frenzy had collapsed in a pile of broken metal, curled unto himself with muffled sobs escaping him.

Rumble held himself back, teeth clenched and armor plates chattering as he struggled to keep himself from crying. He was the stronger of the two, he claimed, so it was wrong for him to display any form of weakness. But there was pain in his EM field, hidden between the waves of anger and hate that surrounded him like a fog.

Soundwave let out an inaudible sigh and walked towards them, carefully bypassing the worst of the damages, and knelt beside the tiny blue frame that was Rumble.  
   
Rumble flinched when Soundwave loomed over him and for a moment, his EM field spiked with a very real sense of fear. But when the carrier very gently placed a hand on his back, rubbing gentle soothing circles into his alloy, a small sob escaped the symbiont and he curled into a ball under the gentle caress, frame wracked with grief. Soundwave scooped the mech into one arm, walking to retrieve Frenzy with the other and then he gently deposited himself and the symbionts on his berth, the mess in the room forgotten. Frenzy curled against Soundwave’s neck, tiny servos scrambling to grip the cables and his faceplates breathing in his smell, finding comfort in the pulse of Energon running through his lines.   
   
Rumble didn’t move and Soundwave curled around him as best he could, nestling him against his chest compartment and rubbing soothing motions into his stiff spinal strut.   
   
With time, the sobs ceased but neither of the twins dared move from their positions. They felt safe, even when their sparks twisted themselves in their chests with the pain of the horrible realization dawning upon them. Frenzy let out a faint keen as he detected Rumble’s growing resentment through their bond, fingers curling against Soundwave’s plating to the point that he was leaving tiny dents in the alloy.

Soundwave didn’t pay the damages any mind.

Rumble was stiffer in the purple mech’s embrace, red optics narrowed as he stared at himself in the reflection of Soundwave’s glass chestplate. His tiny mouth twisted into a grimace but then his faceplates went slack and he rested his forehead against the glass with a heavy sigh.

Frenzy froze for a moment, turning to regard his brother and his red optics were wide with inquiry. Rumble glanced up and he nodded, an unspoken answer to a question pulsed between their bond.

For a moment, Soundwave said nothing, merely observing and holding them. But the silence between the three of them didn’t last and it was the blue minibot that eventually broke the silence.  
   
“Hardtop wasn’t our first carrier,” Rumble said stiffly. He pushed away from Soundwave’s arms and settled himself into a sitting position that allowed him to look up into that calm red visor. Pulling up his legs to his chest, he wrapped his arms around them and rested his chin on his knees before continuing. “He was our fourth. We weren’t always parasites, you know? We used to belong to this noble in Crystal City, and he was so very kind to us. His name was Krios. He was there to receive us when we were sparked and he cared for us as if we were his own creations. But then one day he was mugged and even though he siphoned off the bond so we wouldn’t feel his pain…we still felt it. Every punch, ever stab wound, every nick and tear in his protoform. We knew he wasn’t ever going to come back so we didn’t wait for the authorities to arrive. Zee and I packed up everything we could think of and just ran.   
   
Our second carrier was a femme and though she wasn’t very smart, she cared a lot about us. Her name was Liora and she took us in after finding us huddled in a dirty alleyway. She had a bondmate who was a custodian at the Hall of Records and for a moment, we thought everything would be alright. We’d be safe like we were with Krios…but then her bondmate lost his job and he couldn’t find work anymore. So she went off in his place. She never let us see where she went but one day Frenzy and I followed her and we saw her head into Tiger Pax, near the lower grounds. We peeked through the window, hoping to surprise her and that’s when we realized why she never let us go with her.  
   
She was a frag dancer.   
   
Eventually her relationship with Gree went bad and he drank so much High Grade…he beat up Frenzy this one time, nearly killed him. But he took us to a medic and patched us up and promised it’d never happen again. He lied to Liora and said Frenzy fell down some stairs.   
   
But then it happened again.  
   
And again.

And again.  
   
So we left Liora.   
   
Our third carrier was a mech we met while fishing for Energon behind a bar in Tarn. He was silent, like you, but he talked a lot when you got him in good spirits. And though we didn’t let our guard down, we believed we could work together to survive. But we got careless. We let ourselves hope and dream…  
   
And then he took away our seals.  
   
It was painful. And it hurt so much. Frenzy cried for days and he didn’t like it when he cried but he couldn’t stop. So I let him do it to me over and over and over and I didn’t cry because he didn’t like it when we cried. But it hurt.” Frenzy whimpered at the memory and Rumble glanced at him fondly, sending pulses of warmth and affection in an attempt to override the pain.

Once his brother was calm, Frenzy turned his attention back to Soundwave, a more resentful tone taking his voice. “We killed him. One time when he was fragging me against a wall, I couldn’t take it anymore. I reached for a broken piece of metal and turned around and just began to dig it into whatever I could reach. His faceplates, his neck, his chest…he was dead before he even hit the ground. Slagger fragging deserved it.”

Soundwave’s hands curled slightly, visor dimming as he listened to the recollection of events that comprised the symbionts' lives. So much pain and misery, it was something he could empathize with and a deep part of him resented that they had to endure so much injury. It wasn’t even his coding making him feel this; it was his genuine sense of affection for these two tiny bots, whose resilience and vibrancy never failed to amaze him.

Rumble briefly recounted their meeting with Hardtop and how the dead mech had initiated a partnership for the sake of being admitted into the pit fights. The twins had accepted believing that they’d finally receive the benefits of being with a legitimate host mech. But Hardtop proved to be anything less than worthy of the title.  
   
Eventually, Frenzy pulled his helm slightly and placed his servo on Soundwave’s chest, optics wide and so full of hurt behind his visor. “We bring misfortune on everyone we bond with. Everyone gets hurt, us, our carriers…they die. Or they hurt us. Or we hurt them.” He sighed. “Maywinds was right, we are cursed.”  
   
Immediately, Soundwave shook his helm, “Negative.” He said softly but firmly. “Rumble, Frenzy, mine. My symbionts. My partners…my family.” The last word was said with a small bit of static lacing it and Soundwave felt his spark momentarily constrict in his chest. He saw flashes of green optics and in the back of his processor, ghostly sensations of the warmth and strength that had been his greatest inspirations for a grand part of his life.

He expected to feel guilty. As if admitting such a deep connection towards Rumble and Frenzy would somehow be betraying the delicate trust Stratis and Warfe had built with him. But the rational part of him knew that they would be the first to celebrate his newfound friendship because they were anything but selfish.  
   
He placed a servo over his chest, optics sincere behind his red visor. “Soundwave, responsible for care, protection. Bond not based on servitude, interface or dues. Bond based on trust and respect.” He paused, then added. “Friendship.”

Rumble was dumbfounded. Not surprised, because he’d fought and lived beside this mech for a while and learned that his intentions were purer than those before him. But he had never expected for Soundwave to care about them so deeply; it made him nervous and slightly uncomfortable but not in a bad sense.

The blue symbiont was simply not accustomed to this level of emotional attachment. Not since Krios.

His spark fluttered at the thought of finding a bond with that depth and nuance, of being able to find someone who’d protect them and have their backs while they guarded theirs. He didn’t submit to his hopes, not completely, but he didn’t extinguish it either. And neither did Frenzy, who had been the first of them to initiate this tentative relationship, one that was slowly turning out to be something beautiful.

Because Soundwave was their hope, his and Frenzy’s. To them, the carrier mech represented a future where they could actually belong. And they reveled in the feelings such a vision produced.

But they kept silent about it, though their fields pulsed with warmth and gratitude as they retook their positions with Soundwave, allowing him to wrap his arms around them and press them towards the empty housing dock they had yet to acquaint themselves with. Soundwave had never offered and they had never asked.

The twins were sure there were stories surrounding that tiny space, memories that Soundwave had yet to share with them. They weren’t stupid, they’d heard the rumors. Someone else had lived beside Soundwave’s spark, long before he and Frenzy had even made it into the Pits. They were gone now but Soundwave had never forgotten them; it was obvious in the way he placed his hand over his dock sporadically, rubbing the glass as if trying to soothe someone that normally resided behind the opaque material. His visor dimmed and his EM field spiked with sadness before he seemed to remember and hurried to tether himself back to reality.

Rumble and Frenzy never believed the rumors that claimed the mech had something to do with his previous symbiont’s absence. Because he showcased his worth as a carrier in the way he cared for them. Through his actions he told them how much he appreciated their trust, how much value he placed on the care they provided in the form of late night talks and the occasional scrubbing of his back during sessions in the wash racks.

They were heading somewhere, the three of them, and for the first time in their respective lives, none were fearful of the destination.


	7. Orphic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a moment of brashness leads to unexpected acquaintances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the wait but my computer was simply not cooperating! Hopefully the chapter makes up for it!

_“The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed.”_

—Carl Gustav Jung

 

 

  
Marketplaces are like treasure maps; each stall holds a tiny world underneath it’s roof and each vendor has a history to tell, of trials overcome and aspirations that have yet to be sought. Their gruff voices and odd accents coincided in the air to give vending areas a unique atmosphere, and Rumble and Frenzy absolutely adored it.

Soundwave had amassed quite a few credits after a couple tournaments and fights and when the time came for them to take a few days off, the telepath knew exactly where he wanted to take the two symbionts. So he bided his time, caught Vel during a good mood and bartered a few breems of his time for shanix and a couple joors outside of the arena.

Vel told him to be careful once he’d finished overloading but it was obvious from his demeanor that he wasn’t asking as a friend or even a concerned lover. There was a possessiveness in his neon green optics as he caressed Soundwave’s jaw and the telepath could do nothing but nod, ignoring the pain in his interface array and focusing instead on the upcoming trip he’d planned.

Kaonian marketplaces are not beautiful; the streets underfoot are often unkempt and full of soot, and the air can clog the vents of tiny bots that do not have adequate filtration systems. They smell of dried Energon and burned plasma and the charge of the ion particles in the air can be felt if you’re brave enough to stick your glossa out to taste.

But the vendors are dedicated and with charisma and quality objects, they draw those eager to indulge in oddities their castes would normally never let them see.

Rumble and Frenzy each held one of Soundwave’s hands, a requirement the telepath had drilled into them every time they went outside the arena walls, and their tiny scarlet visors were bright as they swilled their heads to and fro, trying to drink in the bustling vendors area. They awed at the old data pads, squealed at the peddler who had cages of tiny little glitch mice in tow and giggled with delight as they watched a confectioneries vendor twirl sticky masses of condensed Energon into swirls on a stick.

“Can we get one?” Rumble asked, pointing with a bit of juvenile glee. He had his own share of credits in his subspace, but he always liked to ask for Soundwave’s permission. The carrier mech had tried to dissuade him from the practice but the tiny blue symbiont argued that it was better to communicate and be on the same page.

So Soundwave indulged him.

“Affirmative.” He said, smiling underneath his mask as Frenzy let out a victory guffaw and the three of them sauntered over to the tiny stall, the twins letting go of Soundwave’s hands. The vendor, a gruff looking mechs with cracked red panels, grinned down at them.

“See something’ yer like?” He asked, gesturing with a long sweep of his arm towards the glass display that held examples of the sweets he offered. There were Energon jellies, crystallized metals with powdered zinc and that odd stretchy Energon that could be molded around sticks.

Frenzy resisted the urge to press his face against the glass, hands clasped in front of him as he all but bounded in excitement as he pondered his choices.

Rumble tried to be smoother and crossed his arms over his chestplate, lips puckered in concentration. Finally, he snapped his fingers and pointed at the sticky Energon that had first caught his attention. “One of those for me. Red and blue, if ya can.”

The vendor nodded, “Ah! Good choice. Ah’m the only one yer’ll ever see sellin’ dis.” With skilled hands that spoke of eons of practice, he produced a stick with a swirl of red and blue strands of Energon and handed it to the blue minibot, who took it and subsequently offered the necessary credits.

Frenzy went to up his brother, head tilted to one side as he gauged Rumble’s treat. The blue symbiont allowed his red and black counterpart a tiny nibble and smiled when Frenzy let out a groan of appreciation.

“That’s slagging good!”

Soundwave chuckled softly, knowing from experience that the confectionery was indeed delicious.

Frenzy made his purchase and not long after, they found themselves in front of a data pad vendor, Soundwave’s visor bright and interested as he scoured the titles. Gladiators were allowed some time outside the Pits and Soundwave liked to wander out whenever he could, using some of the funds that he won for them to buy medical supplies, tools or any reading material that would be deemed necessary.  
   
Select merchants knew him by name; a young femme named Klis chief among them, she would be the first to notice his presence when he got near her stall and she’d call out to him and wave him over with furtive gestures. This time was no different. Soundwave briskly made his way up to her booth, silently noting that she’d restocked her merchandise quite spectacularly in the last few solar cycles.

She sold datapads, old ones that contained things such as religious overtures to newer ones with basic medical studies. She was quite knowledgeable about her stuff too and Soundwave would bask in the minute peace of intellectual conversation.

“You haven’t been coming to see me as often as you did.” The femme grinned, displaying smooth white denta. Her red optics flashed knowingly as she leaned against the counter, chin nestled in her palms.  
   
Soundwave dipped his head. “Apologies.”  
   
“Got a reason?” The femme prodded, though amusement flickered in her EM field.  
   
“Affirmative.” Soundwave said and stepped aside to reveal the two symbionts behind him, amusement spiking his field when Rumble let out a squawk of indignation and tried to cover his sticky faceplates with one arm. Frenzy continued chewing on his treat, smiling up at Klis and completely shameless of the blue stains on his own face.

Klis was quiet for a moment, turning to look at Soundwave as if waiting for him to laugh and say it was a joke. But when the telepath merely stared at her expectantly, she quickly plastered a smile on her face and grinned down at the two bots.

“Hi!” She said as she leaned over the counter, albeit a little too chipper. “I’m Klis!”

Frenzy nodded, “F’nzy!” He said, holding out a sticky hand in greeting which Klis took with unabashed amusement. Rumble finished wiping himself off and shrugged, “Rumble,” he said.

“A pleasure,” Klis said softly, rising up to her full height. Soundwave caught her looking at him from the corner of her optics, smile strained. But neither of the minibus noticed and proceeded to wander a little further down her stall, where a large stack of colorful data pads caught her attention.

The femme used their distraction to gesture for Soundwave to lean in a bit, her field a mix of frenetic emotions.

“They’re symbionts.” She said tersely, all warmth gone from her being.

“Soundwave, well aware of their status.” The telepath let a bit of bite simper into his tone which went undetected by his conversation partner.

“Didn’t you tell me you wouldn’t get any more after what happened to Warfe and—“ The femme didn’t get to finish her statement, because Soundwave let loose a snarl that resonated deep in his throat and sliced through the air. Klis’ optics widened as he mouth hung agape and hurt registered in her field as she took a reflexive step back; she and Soundwave were not the closest of acquaintances but he’d never threatened her like that, not even when he’d come clambering in demanding every text she had on carrier mech physiology and spark bonds.

Klis had none but she did have working audials and she’d been a listening board for the grieving Gladiator, who spoke of the tiny bots he’d known all his life and their unfortunate demise at the hands of gangsters in the streets.

They developed a tentative relationship, seeing each other only when Soundwave’s handler allowed him time outside of the pits. They bonded over ancient texts and the occasional bit of fiction, reading it as he stood beneath the roof of her stall since Gladiators weren’t allowed to purchase or own any written works. Klis mourned that such a sharp mind was forced to spend it’s orns focusing only on surviving and killing but she was powerless to do much.

She let out a shaky breath, glancing away. “Okay.” She said tersely, getting a grip on her fear.

Soundwave was silent and then his helm gave the tiniest of shakes, as if he were coming out of some trance. His flared armor panels smoothed back over his frame and his fists relaxed; the bright red visor dimmed and slowly, the anger dissipated from his EM field.

He didn’t apologize.

Klis didn’t expect him to. She looked down at the data pads her hands had been thumbing and pursed her lips as she traced their broken faded spines.

“There’s this offer I’m working on.” She said after an awkward moment of silence. “Buy two medical listings and get a piece of free poetry.” A smile. “Think that’ll get my poetry sold?”

Soundwave swallowed roughly. “…Negative.” He said, but quickly added. “Offer poetry with fiction.”

Klis smiled faintly, lifting her helm to stare at him. “Yeah. Okay.”

With a dip of his helm, Soundwave turned to go, visor flashing as he directed his attention to where his symbionts had been meandering about.

The colorful datapads were still there. But Rumble and Frenzy were not.

Time seemed to stop for the briefest of moments; Soundwave’s spinal strut went stiff and the Energon in his fuel lines went cold. An icy claw sank into the depths of his Spark, slowly stabbing and tearing until his vents stuttered and a garble of static escaped his lips.

Klis, who had turned her back on the telepath, whipped around to look at him and her optics widened as she noticed him standing outside of her stall, looking around wildly with a visor that was so bright it flared white. He seemed unaware of the fact that he was bumping into other bots as he glanced around like a feral turbofox, monotone voice laced with static as he called out unintelligibly.

She dropped her data pads and reached out towards him, intent on asking what was wrong but before she could utter a single glyph, he was gone in a flash of dark blue and scarlet.

 

~~~

 

Rumble ignored Frenzy’s cries of protest, disregarded the way his brother’s sticky hand was staining his alloy and how Frenzy was on the verge of crying.

The blue minibot was only focused on getting away, getting them both away as quickly as possible.

It was pure simple instinct. Everything had been fine, the candy sweet on his glossa and the buzz of the market wrapping around him like a comfortable thermo blanket.

But then he’d heard a snarl and Rumble had worried that he and Frenzy had pissed off a bystander unknowingly so he searched for Soundwave, for that safety the blue host mech represented and his Spark had all but stopped upon noticing that the sound had been made by him.

Now, Rumble had seen Soundwave at his worst; snarling and covered in Energon, cuts and scrapes marring his frame until his own fluids mixed with the blue of his enemies and he reeked of only death. But there had always been a kindness in his optics, disguised as remorse for those he killed in the Pit…never had there been genuine hate in his gaze.

But when Rumble watched him snarl at Klis and his blue armor fluffed out and his hands curled into fists, the blue minibot had seen a flash of something ugly in that red visor.

It’d scared him and he didn’t even take the time to think things through. He grabbed Frenzy and ran.

Dormant self-defense protocols flared to life and his only focus was weaving through the bots in the markets, ignoring the grunts as he collided with strangers and the curses as he accidentally threw them off balance…

And protect Frenzy.

When his vents had grown heavy and ragged and his struts ached from running, the two symbionts found themselves somewhere in the city, hidden in the darkness of an alley that smelled of spoiled Energy and ozone.

Rumble fell to his hands and knees, mouth opened wide as he struggled to expel blistering exvents and forced his tertiary fans online. Frenzy was on his knees beside him, whimpering as he nursed the hand Frenzy had used to drag him and glanced around with worry in his visor.

“Rumble…” Frenzy breathed, crawling up to his brother’s side. “Where are we? What happened? Where’s Soundwave?”

At the mention of the carrier mech, Rumble froze and confusion and unease curdled in his belly, forcing him to curl a little unto himself. “I don’t know.” He said after a few moments, forehead pressed against the dirty floor. “I don’t know, Zee.”

The answer didn’t satisfy the red and black symbiont. “Why did we run, then? Is Soundwave coming after us?”

Rumble wanted to say yes. He wanted to stand up, dust himself off and laugh. Sure, he’d say, I was just messing with you and Soundwave is gonna get us and we’re all gonna watch that action movie we sneaked in after our last fight.

But the words died in his throat and for the first time in his life, he found himself speechless and could do nothing but lift his head and simply stare into his brother’s optics.

Frenzy’s lower lip quivered. “Was it because he yelled at Klis?”

Rumble let out a heavy exvent. “Yeah,” he breathed, pulling himself up into a kneeling position and grabbing onto one of his brother’s hands.

Some bots thought Frenzy was the least intelligent between the two of them and in most cases they were right. But Frenzy was not stupid and proved to be incredibly perceptive; that keen awareness of his surroundings had magnified since they met Soundwave and the number of fights between them had steadily begun to decrease.

Frenzy learned when enough was enough but he also came to understand how his actions affected those around and vice versa.

And now, instead of crying, he found himself being the tether for Rumble, keeping his blue counterpart grounded as painful and broken memories threatened to overwhelm him. He felt everything through the bond and his Spark twisted as he realized exactly what memories Soundwave’s outburst had triggered in Rumble.

Gree had always snarled before he’d attacked them, his hands curled into fists moments before they rained down upon them and all but smashed their delicate frames into broken pieces of their former selves. But Soundwave had never hit them. Hell, the telepath had never even raised his voice at them, not even when they deserved it. He always spoke in a gentle but firm tone and whenever punishments were needed, he resorted to simply assigning them extra chores.

Frenzy shook his helm sadly, leaning forward to wrap his arms around Rumble who dutifully returned the gesture. They remained like that for a while, savoring each other’s presence before pulling away with mutual sighs.

“Better?” Frenzy asked softly.

Rumble nodded. “Yeah, I—“

“Lookey what we have here!” The high pitched voice caught both symbionts by surprise and they jumped to their pedis, arms transforming into piledrivers as they turned to face the new arrival.

It was a mech, tall and muscular with red panels that were caked in dirt and grime. He carried the sour smell of high grade and there were various paint transfers on his frame, the tell tale signs of drying transfluid caking his thighs.

Rumble grimaced. “Leave us alone.” He hissed, wiggling one of his arms to emphasize that they were armed and not at all vulnerable.

The mech leered, “Not a chance, sweet thing. You have any idea how much younglings are worth around these parts?” He shook his head, lumbering towards them. “This is too good an opportunity to pass up.” A subtle flick of his wrist and suddenly he was brandishing a long vibroblade, it’s purple blade humming and causing the air particles around it to vibrate.

Frenzy had seen vibroblades before. One of them nearly cut him in half once.

He squashed down the wave of fear that welled up inside him, taking measured steps back while trying to keep his brother behind him. Small red optics glanced around behind his visor, looking for a way out but they were trapped on three sides. Rumble, in his haste to get away, had unknowingly led them into a dead end alley.

He couldn’t bite back the curse that escaped his clenched dental plates.

“Do we really have to make this so difficult?” The red mech drawled, skittering side to side with a grace that contradicted his build. “Drop the weapons and I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

Rumble felt Frenzy tense behind him and the blue symbiont couldn’t help but sympathize with the sentiment. A deep part of his Spark couldn’t help but wish that Soundwave was here with them.

“Our sire will kill you,” the blue symbiont blabbed out suddenly.

The red mech scoffed, amused. “Oh, really?”

“Y-yeah!” Frenzy squeaked, hating how fear caused his tone to rise a couple octaves. “He’s a Gladiator! He’ll rip you apart before you touch us.”

“I see.” The red mech scoffed, but his advance never faltered. “Then where is he?”

Rumble meet resistance from Frenzy once they reached a wall and their voices slowly began to loose their false bravado. A wild glimmer in the other mech’s optics revealed that the mech took notice.

He gave them little time to prepare. A slight step back and suddenly he was diving towards them, vibrblade aimed for their sparks.

Rumble screamed.

 

~~~

 

Soundwave had been running for a while. His fans were whirring erratically, his sides heaving from the effort and his telepathic module was on the verge of overheating.

But the fear and desperation in his Spark was as strong as ever.

He needed to find them. Even if he missed his curfew, he couldn’t afford to lose Rumble and Frenzy. Not them.

Not again.

He took a quick turn down an empty street, head whirling around wildly as he struggled to capture a glimpse of anything that would lead him to his two symbionts. A footprint, a blue or red paint transfer, a whiff of their EM field….anything.

But he got nothing.

His steps slowed as he came to a particularly grungy looking part of town, complete with run down looking buildings and the glittering neon sign of a bar.

The colors flashed across his HUD and the telepath felt a painful sense of nostalgia claw at his Spark, which he stubbornly pushed back down. He deleted lines of code that aimed to resurface memories he’d long kept hidden and willed himself to focus.

He froze as an all too familiar scream resonated through the area, shrill and full of fear before it was abruptly cut off.

Soundwave’s Spark shattered in his chassis and a rising tide of hysteria threatened to overtake him as he sprinted towards the source of the noise. Inside his head, he kept repeating an all familiar mantra, begging a god he didn’t believe in to spare him of the pain he knew was coming, to enact one of those miracles he never had the will to acknowledge.

He skidded to a stop in front of a darkened alleyway, optics widening behind his visor as the first thing he registered was the smell of freshly spilled Energon. A huge glowing puddle of it sat in the middle, droplets of the precious liquid splattered on the walls and on two familiar blue and red frames.

A keen escaped him before he could help himself.

And then suddenly, there was movement. A pair of glowing red optics shuttered online, illuminating the remains of a red corpse that was slowly greying.

Soundwave gasped. “Rumble? Frenzy?”

“They’re alright.” A raspy voice said and as the telepath watched, the owner of the glowing scarlet pools jumped off the corpse and sauntered towards him. As the bot stepped into the light, Soundwave was able to see that it was a quadruped. Ebony plating rippled with strength, strong silver legs and a long powerful tail complimenting the dark colors it sported. It’s jaws were parted, stained with Energon and Soundwave could see gleaming rows of sharp teeth.

“The two little ones passed out from the fright.” She said, plating ruffling as she began hacking and spitting out chunks of metal before sitting to begin grooming herself. Soundwave gave her a wary glance before running towards the two frames in the back of the alley. Their tiny frames hummed with life, warm to the touch and free of any scrapes or apertures.

Soundwave couldn’t help himself. He feel to his knees and cradled them in his arms, pressing them to his chest and curling his entire frame around them as best he could.

They were alive.

They were alive!

Broken ugly sobs escaped him, wracking his entire frame with shudders of painful relief as he felt Rumble’s soft exvents against his alloy and Frenzy’s tiny hands gripped his frame in his recharge.

They were all that mattered and Soundwave felt his Spark sing as it finally reunited with the two tiny beings it cared most about in this world. When he was able to breathe properly, he rose to his feet and turned to regard the heroic feline standing at the mouth of the alley.

She purred as she noticed the two symbionts in his arms, optics dimming softly.

Soundwave tentatively came up to her, standing a respectful distance away before kneeling down to her eye level. She watched him carefully, an ear flicking in acknowledgment.

“Thank you.” Soundwave breathed, hoping the sincerity of his gratitude carried into his words.

The feline sighed, “They’re too young to running about,” she said after a moment. “I was able to help them only because that grey piece piece of slag wouldn’t stop talking when I was walking by.”

Soundwave nodded. “Thank you.” It seemed to be the only words he could say but he couldn’t find it in him to care. He was indebted to this strange bot, this curious little feline whose gaze captivated his own and whose elusive EM field glimmered with something that made his Spark pulse.

He wanted to reach out and mesh fields but he knew that doing so would be intrusive and he was not about to go repaying her with a lack of hospitality. Optics roved over her frame and he couldn’t help but notice the patches of grey on her paws, places where her paint had chipped after the nanites had died.

She needed Energon.

“Query: accept Energon as payment?”

The feline tilted her helm in inquiry. “Payment?”

“For saving Rumble and Frenzy.” Soundwave clarified, gesturing to the tiny bots in his arms with a subtle jerk of his chin.

Scarlet optics roved over the twins, narrowing slightly. “Are they symbionts?” She asked carefully.

Soundwave nodded, finding the question odd. “Affirmative.”

“Oh.” Something flashed in her optics and she was on her feet before Soundwave could protest the wariness that made her entire frame tense. Jumping onto a ledge on one of the walls, she glanced down at him, tail swishing. “Take care of them,” she said.

“Wait!” Soundwave took a step forth, visor bright. “Designation?”

The feline let out a tiny purr. “Ravage.” She said softly before disappearing into the shadows.

 


	8. Alexithymia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dissension is brewing on Cybertron. Rumble, Frenzy and Soundwave struggle to assimilate to the changing world, all while hoping to mend the rift lingering between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this chapter mapped out perfectly and my dumbass shuts the cover of my laptop for the night, opens it and finds Word completely frozen and unresponsive. So I restart my computer and lo and behold, the entire chapter (as well as parts I'd already published) weren't able to be autosaved. So for days I mulled over this chapter trying to get what I originally had mapped out before but it just wouldn't agree with me. 
> 
> I apologize for the wait but technology was responsible for the delay. That and the two day tear fest I had when I realized my work was deleted...

_It isn’t_

_what we say_

_Or think_

_That defines us,_

_But what_

_We do._

 

—Jane Austen, _Sense and Sensibility_

 

 

  
There comes a certain point in your life where you let yourself falter in your faith. Sometimes it’s an intentional withdrawal, perhaps aided by some great tragedy or the passing of a loved one who managed to leave this world and take a tiny little part of you. It’s so small it’s unnoticeable, inconsequential. But then it doesn’t just stop at one or two; before long, there aren’t enough fingers to keep count of those that start to leave and little by little, the missing pieces, they take start to become noticeable and when you finally realize the damage you’ve suffered, you’re already falling apart. You wrap your arms around yourself, hoping that you can keep yourself together; stubbornly trying to hide those broken parts and convince yourself that hiding is the answer.

But you don’t ever turn back to your faith. You’re not whole but you’re not stupid. Faith couldn’t keep you together so how can you hope that it can mend what what you convinced yourself wasn’t really broken?

Other times, faith was lost unintentionally. You become absorbed with other things in your life and little by little, you begin to lose your grasp on that ethereal tether and the weight of reality keeps you focused on the terrible aspects everyone knows exists but nobody wants to acknowledge.

Fighting for your life on a daily basis was an easy way to lose faith in the ethereal. In the beginning, every young gladiator would send silent prayers up above with the hope that some cosmic entity would listen and almost every time, it was skill and sheer perseverance that won the day. In the end, bots in the Pits learned to depend on nobody but themselves.

Frenzy and Rumble were no different.

Even as they sat down in the makeshift tub Soundwave had bought for them during their last outing to the Kaoninan marketplace, taking turns washing each other’s back in the dimness of the room that had been their most recent life, they never let their processors completely believe that they were safe.

It had nothing to do with the telepath’s latest outburst and yet it was everything.

Soundwave had said nothing when they’d woken inside the familiar walls of their habsuite in the arena, to the sour smell of Energon that never seemed to completely disappear and the scratchy blankets that smelled faintly of Soundwave’s polish. Rumble had fainted midscream and when he rebooted, the loud harsh sound reverberated through the walls, prompting Frenzy out of his own stasis and into joining his wailing with the same fervor.

The telepath had placed his hands on each of their arms, murmuring softly until the remnants of the fear and impending death had eased out of their systems. Frenzy had looked at Soundwave with something akin to relief, a tiny black hand reaching out towards the telepath.

Rumble stared up at that vermillion gaze with an inscrutable expression and then, very slowly, he’d turned onto his side and offered the carrier mech his back. His EM field wasn’t spiking with malice or anger or even hurt, at least, none of it directed towards Soundwave. But there was an uncertainty to the tiny blue mech as he curled into a fetal position, frame shaking slightly.

Frenzy’s hand fell to his brother’s arm, instinctively soothing as he nestled closer and pressed their foreheads together with an intimacy second only to the bond that they shared between their Sparks.

“It’s not your fault,” Frenzy murmured softly, not glancing up at Soundwave. “But it’s best if you leave him alone.”

Soundwave had sat there on the edge of his berth stiffly, observing their reactions with shame lining every strut of his being. His internal comm was being flooded with pings from Octane with the occasional one from Vel peppering the purple flier’s mass of voice messages.

Telling them where he was going, the telepath had left them both in silence as he went out to endure the fallout of their tardy return.

But that had been five orns ago.

Frenzy sat on the edge of the berth, listening to Rumble’s snoring and observing the door for any sign of activity that indicated that the host mech was returning. Time passed and the tiny gauges on their internal Energon systems slowly began to descend, red glyphs on their HUD urging them to get refueled.

They both knew the way to the place where they got their Energon and their credits were safely tucked in their subspace, easily accessible. But Rumble refused to go without Soundwave and Frenzy, despite the rumble in his tanks, couldn’t help but agree.

The unease in the blue symbiont’s EM field had lessened during their time in solitude and after a brief talk with one anther, Rumble had been more willing to finally confront Soundwave about the incident that had nearly left them dead.

It wouldn’t be easy.

But at the very least, nothing unspoken would remain between them.

Soundwave just needed to come back to them.

~~~

“His name is Megatronus.”

Soundwave remained perfectly still as the name was uttered, constants and sharp sounds rolled to perfection by a linguistically talented glossa. It was one of Vel’s greatest assets in a world where he was at a physical disadvantage; honeyed words that could be spoken in any dialect, from the simplest Kaonite to the most eloquent Vosian only the near royalty of Cybertron would dream of uttering.

With a few simple words he’d torn Soundwave’s world into pieces and with a single glyph, brought him back to life.

Punishments among Gladiators were common, so much so that they’d become almost a way of life and instead of dreading it after a loss or misstep, seasoned veterans merely lowered their helms and accepted whatever was dolled upon them.

Soundwave had never received any punishment in a long time but he had been a participant often. He’d learned to tune out the screams and grunts, to ignore the smell of Energon as it clung to his frame and caked into the joints of his fingers.

But there was a first time for everything.

Soundwave was on his hands and knees, limbs shaking and his entire frame rattling and shivering from a combination of hunger, pain and fatigue. He hadn’t slept, hadn’t so much as seen traces of an Energon cube and head bee subjected to just about every twisted thing the neon green opticed mech could possibly imagine. They were in a closed room in the Pit, usually reserved for unstable mechs to be held until they were treated or put down. Vel had acquired it for this particular lesson, paying handsomely to make sure absolutely no one disturbed.

Octane had tried to interfere, his voice muffled but audible through the thick metal door separating them. He begged Vel to reconsider, to think of the profits they’d lose, the loss of sponsors…but Vel had been silent as he ignored the purple flier who eventually gave up and left, leaving Soundwave on his own.

A large part of him was relieved his symbionts hadn’t been included in this session though he mused it certainly wasn’t because Vel had forgotten about the two tiny bots. Vel knew he’d only have to put Rumble and Frenzy in danger and guilt ridden Soundwave would do anything to defend them. It wasn’t his cooperation he was after.

It was submission.

“Megatronus,’ Soundwave echoed, if only for the sake of doing something to keep himself from slipping into stasis.

Vel smiled, “Yes. He’s new around here, a former miner. Heavily built, armored and with enough passion to overcome his inexperience.” He paused just a little way in front of Soundwave from where he’d been circling the fallen telepath. “Passion. That’s a very important trait, Sounders. But it seems you’ve forgotten all about it.”

Soundwave flinched. “Apologies, already—.”

“I don’t want your apologies.” Vel hissed, stepping forth to grab Soundwave’s chin in his hand. His neon green optics shone venomously, lividness brewing in those depths. “I want results.”

Results. The word made Soundwave freeze and he swallowed roughly, wincing as the action made his damaged vocalizer jostle in his bruised intake.

“Megatronus,” Vel said, harshly retreating his grip on the telepath and standing tall and proud over his prone form. “Is the new contender for your position as this arena’s best fighter. He’s under the contract of Iota which means he’s been drafted into your fighting pool. Now, the schedules have yet to be made but you can be sure that the higher ups will do everything in their power to make a spectacle out of the both of you. They think he’ll win, because he’s new and you’re nothing more than old news.”

A softer tone was adopted by Soundwave’s handler and he resisted the urge to flinch when he bent down on one knee to face his gladiator head on. Hands that had done nothing but deliver pain and agony came to rest against one of his broken side vents, fingers caressing the ruptured metal with faux kindness.

“You know I brought you from the brink of death, don’t you, love?”

Soundwave stiffened silently.

“When those horrible thugs ambushed you in that alley and raped and beat you until you couldn’t move, your spark had been guttering. But it held on because of Stratis and Warfe, who were fighting desperately to save you. Do you remember Stratis’ screams as they tore her wings off their hinges? How Warfe’s vocalizer all but shattered in his intake as they tore into him, his tiny frame experiencing the same abuse you did but breaking so much faster than yours?”

Soundwave’s vents stuttered, armor rattling more aggressively to the point that it looked like he would shatter into pieces right then and there. Vel smiled, knowing he was hitting just the right spots.

“You don’t want the same to happen to Rumble and Frenzy, do you? They’re awfully tiny, smaller than even Warfe. Do you think they’d be able to continue on if you passed on?” A pause, then the honeyed tone fell to a whisper. “You can’t afford to break another promise, love. Not again. What kind of carrier mech would you be?”

A deep guttural growl sounded somewhere in Soundwave’s throat and his fingers clenched into fists, digging deep groves into the stained grimy floor. His EM field flared with anger, hate, sadness and longing but all those emotions were overpowered by the basic desire to protect.

Vel narrowed his optics. “They owe their lives to you. And you owe everything to me, Soundwave. You all belong to me. So don’t you ever, ever dare think that obeying your coding and obeying me are two different things. I own you, love. And as easily as I had those thugs killed off, I can just as easily take those two little bots from you too. So if you want to keep them safe, listen and obey. Understood?”

Soundwave wasted no time in replying. “Affirmative.”

With a gentle tap to Soundwave’s shoulder, Vel rose to his feet. “Good. Now, I suspect those two little monsters must be starving by now. I’ll have Jespa’s assistant send them a couple cubes to bring their spirits up and then, you’re going right into the bacta tank. You have a match the next orn and I want you to put on your best performance.”

Vel clapped his hands and the dim lights in the room brightened immediately, the only door to the enclosure opening to reveal a stern looking Octane and a worried Jespa. The medic was at Soundwave’s side in an instant, optics scanning the mech and supporting him as she pulled him shakily to his feet.

“What did you do to him?” She asked Vel, her tone clinical.

Vel, who was in the middle of a harsh argument with Octane, turned to look at the medic with a warm smile. “Nothing drastic. Just some forceful interfacing, broken struts, lack of recharge and starvation. You know, the usual.”

Jespa’s lips pursed. “Understood.” She said sternly, though her optics softened slightly when she murmured in Soundwave’s audial to guide him out. Vel watched them go with his trademark smile, which only seemed to brighten when he turned to face the glowering figure that was Octane.

“You fragging idiot.”

Vel raised an Energon stained finger, waggling it slightly in the air. “Careful, Octane. Speak any sweeter to me and I might fall in love with you.”

“This isn’t a game!” Octane said forcefully, vocalizer nearly fritzing as he held himself back from screaming like he wanted to. He knew any medic would tell him the constant pains in his intakes were due to moments like these, which had become more and more common ever since Vel’s bondmate had lost all of his shares in his company. One would imagine that the threat of losing a lifetime of wealth would prompt a bot to be more careful with one of their sources of income but Vel had taken to the other end of the spectrum completely.

He bought extravagant items on a daily basis and when Soundwave made errs, he took to unnecessarily drastic measures of punishments. It made Octane uneasy and if he weren’t struggling to hold his own finances together, he would have bailed a long time ago.

But Cybertron was changing, slowly, minutely but surely. Little by little, any observant bot could see the changes in their world around them and they’d be hard pressed to admit that stability was no longer definite. Change always began at the foundation, from the bottom to the very top, and here in the Pits, Octane had a front row seat to the center of the ripples of change expanding across the planet.

Less spectators, sponsors disappearing without so much as a word and the smaller arenas finding themselves either bankrupt or ransacked by the Prime’s Security Service.

It certainly didn’t help that some anonymous figure had been spreading propaganda through the DataNet, talking of revolution and change that most bots would find humorous if circumstances were any different. It was unnerving…and to a mech who made a living on extortion and illegal transactions, extremely frightening.

“You need to be careful,” Octane said, exasperation tingeing his tone. “Please, Vel. For the love of everything you hold dear, don’t make me regret partnering up with you.”

Neon green optics blinked, unreadable. But then they crinkled at the edges as a wide smile overtook Vel’s handsome faceplates. “Don’t worry,” he said softly, taking a step forward and wiping some imaginary dirt off of Octane’s shoulder. “I have everything under control.”

“We don’t have any credits anymore.”

A twinkle sprouted in Vel’s optics, bright and hard for Octane to miss. “Don’t you worry your pretty little helm about that, Octane. I have a plan.”

Scarlet optics narrowed into slits. “Forgive me for being less than optimistic. But putting Soundwave into the same pool as this Megatronus sounds more like a desperate play than an actual plan.”

Vel scoffed. “Megatronus has nothing to do with this,” he hissed, patience wearing thin. “Just shut up and you’ll have your fragging money in a few orns. After the Megatronus fight, Soundwave is going to make us both very very rich.”

“If he survives.” Octane muttered, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Why, Octane,” Vel retorted frostily. “Where’s your confidence in our esteemed little gladiator? Don’t worry.”

Octane grimaced, shaking his helm. He said nothing but the answer was flaring obviously in his EM field and Vel couldn’t help but find amusement in the fact. Because linguistics wasn’t the tiny bot’s only gift in a world as dark and dangerous as the one he currently resided in; he had a way of making things happen and he was more than sure in the fact that Soundwave was completely under his control.

~~~

_**[Four Orns Later]** _

 

“Can I recharge in your loading dock?”

Soundwave glanced down at Frenzy, red visor flickering with surprise at the question.

“Loading…dock?” Soundwave echoed lamely, finding himself at a loss. The two of them were in the communal wash racks washing down after a fight and the telepath had been in the process of scrubbing the tiny bot’s back when the question was posed.

Glancing down at the vapor condensed plexiglass, Soundwave swallowed roughly and said nothing.

Frenzy’s optics never lost their hopeful glimmer however, and he reached up to place his servo on top of the blue one on his shoulder. He gave it a gentle reassuring squeeze.

“Me and Rumble know we aren’t your first symbionts. It’s easy to tell. You don’t have to tell us anything right now if you’re not sure, but I just want you to know that I’d like to take the next step in our partnership.”

Soundwave frowned slightly. “Rumble, approves?” The telepath hadn’t seen much of the blue symbiont. He showed up only for training and fights but disappeared to Jespa’s medical bay when the circumstances didn’t demand his presence. Frenzy took it in stride, saying that his twin had some things he needed to come to terms with before he returned to normal. Soundwave, as usual, didn’t find himself reassured.

It was his fault, after all, that the two bots had been put in danger in the first place. He’d lost his temper outside of the arena and frightened off the two symbionts, a process that very nearly led to thier deaths.

Imagining a world without the two tiny bots made Soundwave’s spark churn and he gripped Frenzy’s shoulder a little tighter, silently seeking reassurance that the tiny bot gave seamlessly. It still surprised the telepath how easily Frenzy trusted him. The red and black mech had been timid and easy to hide in his twin’s shadow when the situation called for it, but ever since Soundwave had entered into a partnership with them, Frenzy slowly found himself coming out of the shell he’d been nestled in. He wasn’t arrogant enough to say that he was the cause of the drastic personality shift but he liked to take comfort that Frenzy found his presence comfortable enough to make the transition.

“Rumble doesn’t hate you.” Frenzy said for what seemed like the umpteenth time. “And to answer your question, he’s the one who told me to ask you.”

Soundwave jerked his helm back slightly in surprise. “What?”

“Look, Rumble’s never been good with words. He’s a take-action kinda bot, y’know? He can’t really think of a way to tell ya what happened at the marketplace and he’s too impatient to try. So a temporary symbiosis is the way he feels can show you just what he wants.” Red visor dimming, Frenzy added. “Not a full on quantum bond, cause ya need me in there at the same time but…yeah.”

Warmth spread through Soundwave’s chest, warming his broken Spark with the trust both mechs were exhibiting. A small voice in his helm told him he was undeserving, that any contact with his Spark, however brief would show them both that he wasn’t whole and incompatible. But as quickly as the thought came, he remembered the promise he’d made to them when they’d first met. Soundwave was to be their protector and broken or not, he was going to keep his word to them.

Stratis and Warfe…would have wanted that.

So it was with a gentle dip of his helm that he assented to Frenzy’s words. “Affirmative.”

Beaming, the red and black symbiont said, “Perfect.” He turned back to face the wall, poking at a solvent bubble and smiling when it popped. “Now let’s get to scrubbing…we gotta make it back first before Rumble chickens out.”

Soundwave smiled behind his faceplates, a tentative twitch of scarred lips, and hummed in agreement; his hands continued their ministrations, movements a little more confident than before.


	9. Meliorism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumble and Frenzy finally learn about Soundwave's past and their relationship finally comes full circle when they find themselves receiving the offer of a lifetime. An offer that seems a little too good to be true...

_Everything_

_has changed and yet,_

_I am more me than_

_I've ever been._

 

_-Iain Thomas_

 

“Thanks...for coming.” 

Soundwave stared at the tiny little bot sitting beside him on the berth, observing the way his little legs barely reached the width’s edge of the berth and his hands curled ever so tightly into the metal of his knees. 

Rumble was nervous; even without teeking his EM field, Soundwave could see almost every textbook indicator that broadcasted the symbiont’s mood and the temptation to reach out and offer consolation was strong, but he knew he wasn’t in control here. Wherever this conversation went, Rumble ultimately had the reigns. 

Frenzy sat on his brother’s other side, hands clasped in his own lap as he looked expectantly between the two bots. He was there to mediate, sort of, kind of like a tether that reminded them both that so much was at stake here. They were gladiators, performers who danced to the tune of death for the gratification of morbid spectators that cared naught for their safety or lives. In the ring, they depended on each other and outside of the pit, all three of them were slowly becoming aware of the fact that they were losing the support of those they could previously rely on. 

Octane was rarely around anymore and when he was, his words were harsh and clipped, the mirth and greed in his optics replaced by something darker that seemed to eat away at his insides. Vel was a darker presence, loitering and demanding the impossible every single time with that faux warmth dripping off every word like acid. Something was brewing in their world, something twisted and dreary and the time had come for them to settle their differences once and for all. 

Frenzy was proud that Rumble had asked for an audience with their host mech. It was a little victory, a small step that spoke of the blue bot’s desire to finally heal and to finally settle on a place to belong. 

“I’m sure we don’t have to tell you how a partial symbiosis goes, do we?” Rumble asked, finally looking up at the host mech for what seemed like the first time in orns. “You know how to do it?”

A brief pause and then the blue host mech is nodding silently in affirmation. 

Rumble’s mouth twitched, an almost smile. “Good.” With his brother’s assistance, he rose to his feet, facing Soundwave with a determined glimmer in his red visor. “Then let’s do this.” 

Soundwave raised a hand. “Wait.” 

“What?” Rumble couldn’t hide the tremor that appeared in his voice that popped up after receiving the halting gesture. “What is it?” 

Hesitating, Soundwave seemed at a loss. But then a blue hand came up, placing itself over the imperfect plexiglass with a quiet reverence and melancholy that was almost palpable. “Memories, unsavory.” He said, monotone unusually soft. “Recommend, caution. Apologies...extended in advance.” 

“Oh.” The relief made Rumble sag slightly but he quickly righted himself and replied. “Don’t worry, Soundwave. Whatever you have in your past...I’m ready to see it. And...I’m ready for you to understand me.” 

The host mech lets out a small affectionate huff, nodding once before retreating his hand and popping open the cover to his docking chamber. With a fluidity that spoke of an unspoken compatibility, Rumble transformed and docked himself inside, finding nothing but warmth and security greeting him in turn. The cover clicked as it closed and subsystems that hadn’t seen activation or usage in vorns suddenly jumpstarted to life upon sensing the compatible symbiont; tiny wires and slivers of Spark energy reaching out tentatively in inquiry.

Rumble acquiesced and the necessary connections were slowly made. Within moments, the necessary handshake was made and with a stable but temporary quantum link finally established, the transfer of data and emotions slowly began. 

Frenzy closed his optics, feeling everything through the bond he shared with his brother, from the subtle glee of finally being in a docking chamber their coding longed for to the hesitation of placing their trust in someone other than themselves. It all faded away as the line between Rumble and Soundwave became blurred and two Sparks and minds melded together in an intimacy that no other bots could ever hope to mimic.

Soundwave received the memories of all of Rumble and Frenzy’s past carriers in neat little files, labeled and filled with memory clips, audio tracks and emotional information packets. The host mech knew what to expect but it was still like relieving everything once more as his own optics and audials went through the experiences the two tiny bots went through. With each small niche of happiness that was shattered, every painful blow to their innocence and every cry of pain and pulse of determination, Soundwave felt his affection for them grow a tiny bit more. He’d once claimed that he couldn’t appreciate them any more than he already did but these two tiny bots proved to be something special; they found ways to sneak around his calculations, bringing in variable he couldn’t have anticipated and reminding him that nothing was ever truly set into the fabric of reality. 

When the memories all came to pass, Rumble offered another, smaller in size but the symbiont’s end hummed with subtle appreciation when it was handed off, the unease tinging it’s edges almost nonexistent. 

It was a file that contained everything regarding their time together. But a tiny nueral pathway highlighted the way to the events of the marketplace and Soundwave stiffened as he replayed it, noticing how his momentary lapse of anger made the blue symbiont afraid. 

But it wasn’t the fear of being hurt that accompanied files of their past carriers and no sense of danger spurred Rumble into how he reacted. 

It was a fear that went deep, much deeper than emotions, all the way down to the symbiont’s coding. 

Rumble had been afraid that Soundwave’s momentary lapse was a sign that he would turn out to be just like all the others. That the happiness they briefly shared among the death and the pain would eventually amount to nothing. 

It was a survival instinct that had been tarnished and twisted in the lines of data that made up who the two bots were. So many times they had trusted and so many times had they been betrayed that their own coding made them wary of positive indicators; joy, love, happiness, safety...they simply hadn’t been able to accept any of those things because experience had taught them they lead to pain and suffering. 

Soundwave sat on this information for a second, pondering and analyzing before sending a small datapacket back to the symbiont. Rumble hesitated for a second before opening it and in less than a nanoklik the two found their disembodied limbo transformed into a small dingy and ill lit apartment. Rumble glanced around himself for a moment, bewildered but a soft pulse of affirmation had him looking to his side and seeing Soundwave staring down fondly at him. 

“Where are we?” The blue symbiont asked, more curious than afraid. It smelled like oxidation and stale Energon but beneath it all was a twinge of sweetness that seemed oddly familiar. The tiny cubicle of an apartment was lined with mismatched repaired furniture, minimalistic and lacking color and had it not been for the datapads and empty cubes loitering on top of the table, one would be inclined to think it was empty. 

Before Soundwave could reply, the door opened and a black and green mech sauntered in, a silver aerial perched on his shoulder. He was carrying two Energon cubes and looked to be a little winded, as if he’d been running and barley got a moment to catch his breath. 

“I got the fuel!” He called out, voice deep and oddly melodious, closing the door with his heel and setting the glowing cubes down on the table. His green optics paid no heed to either Rumble or Frenzy and it wasn’t until a smaller and less shiny version of Soundwave appeared from an adjacent room that the blue symbiont realized they were in a memory file. 

One of Soundwave’s memory files. 

Awed, Rumble took a few steps closer to the two unknown symbionts, taking in their frames and auras and teeking the affection that underlined the memory. Without waiting for either of the memory-ghosts to speak, Rumble already knew who they were. 

“Warfe, Stratis.” Memory-ghost Soundwave said in greeting, kneeling down beside them with an affection glow to his visor. 

The silver aerial trilled and her bipedal companion huffed an amused laugh. “We ran into a bit of trouble with the transaction, but this should be enough to last us all enough for a couple orns. At least until Yutica finally pays us at the end of the decaorn.”

Soundwave shook his helm, “Provisions, limited.” He reached into his subspace and pulled out a thin scratched credit. “Retrieve additional supplies, sufficient for two decaorns.” 

Warfe frowned. “What? No. Soundwave, me and Stratis don’t really drink a lot of fuel. You’re bigger than us. If anything, we can make so with a couple sips from yours but the majority needs to go to you.” He pushed the credit back into his host’s hand. “We need the money to pay off the rent. Better to be hungry than to not have a roof over our heads.” 

Stratis nodded in agreement. 

Memory-ghost Soundwave sighed, obviously not pleased with the answer but convinced by the green and black mech’s explanation. “Affirmative.” 

“Good!” Warfe said, smiling warmly. “Now, let’s hurry up, alright? Our shift starts in four joors and none of us have washed. So to the washracks, yeah?” 

Stratis chirped in excitement, flapping her wings and proceeding to circle around the two mechs, herding them towards the tiny washracks that were adjacent to the living space they’d been in. As Rumble watched, all three of them fell into a steady washing, with Soundwave doing the two smaller symbionts and the two of them helping him with the seams and crevices his blunt fingers couldn’t reach. It was an image of domesticity, of happiness that seemed out of place when put against the dreary backdrop of their living space and Rumble at first couldn’t understand how they could find so much joy when they’d been talking about limited rations just moments before.

Soundwave came up next to the blue symbiont as he stared at the two cubes on the table, listening to the running solvent and the chirr of the aerial and the deep rumbling laugh of the tiny black and green mech. Rumble’s fingers traced the edges of the closest cube, admiring how his fingers went through them, reminding him this was a memory and not a dream. But it all seemed so real; every little detail was inscribed into this vision, from the scratches on the table to the oddly sour smell the Energon carried. 

“Why did you bring me here?” Rumble asked, glancing back up at the host mech. 

Silent, Soundwave offered his hand. “Observe.” He said softly and when Rumble reached out to place his tiny palm in his, the world around them shifted and they found themselves in a small bar. It was dimly lit with neon green and pink lights providing the only source of light and from their placement at the bar, both had a good view of the undulating bodies of the dancing patrons. The music was a horrible beatboxing rhythm, that repeated every few kliks but seemed to be enough to entice the mechs and femmes in the bar to catch it’s beat and move their frames along with it. 

The sound of a crashing plate sounded and both bots turned to see Warfe standing on the top of the bar’s surface, wiping a glowing neon yellow liquid from his chassis. Memory-ghost Soundwave was at his side in an instant, trying to help but ultimately getting pushed off by the tiny green and black mech. 

“I’m fine!” Warfe hissed, rubbing at his optics.

Memory-ghost Soundwave shook his helm. “Negative. Enex, contains corrosive elements. Damage to optics, probable.” 

Warfe rolled his optics, snatching the cloth from his host’s hands and finishing wiping himself off. “Please. If that were true I would have gone fragging blind vorns ago.” His green optics caught sight of the bot responsible for throwing the drink on him and he yelled a curse, prompting the other mech to give him a rude gesture in return before disappearing into the crowd. 

The dark colored symbiont tsked. “That’s what I get for agreeing to work the counter. Nobody respects anyone anymore.” 

His host sighed. “Suggestion, avoid stand-offs and use less provocative language. Patrons, unstable.” 

Warfe scoffed. “So now it’s my fault that I got a cube of Enex dumped on me? Aren’t you supposed to be one my side?” 

“Affirmative. But Warfe, needs to—.” 

“To what, Soundwave? Be a little more cordial and professional? Even when a mech tells me he wants to see whether or not his spike is big enough for my tiny little mouth?” Warfe threw the soiled rag onto the table with a wet plop. “Sorry, but frag no. I have a sliver of self-respect I’d like to protect, thank you.” 

“Warfe.” 

“No, dammit, Soundwave. I’m not going over this again.” 

“Warfe, desist.”

“NO.”

“Warfe!” Rumble flinched at the sound of the past Soundwave’s loud rebuttal, sounding eerily similar to the way the blue mech had yelled at Klis in the marketplace. Warfe’s reply trailed off at the host mech’s words and from across the bar, Rumble saw the golden optics of Stratis widen in surprise as she finished delivering a patron’s cube.

The green and black mech hissed an expletive and hopped the counter, leaving memory-ghost Soundwave standing with an exasperated look in his visor. Moments later, the blue mech rounded the table and ran in the direction the tiny green and black mech disappeared to. Both host and symbiont followed, Rumble curious and Soundwave expectant.

When they finally managed to come upon the two, Warfe was standing with his arms crossed facing a kneeling Soundwave and for a moment, Rumble was confused on whether they were fighting or reconciling. But then he heard what was being said.

“I don’t expect you to fight for me,” Warfe said, deep voice soft. “But I need you to understand that I have to fight for myself. I’m at a disadvantage already, being a symbiont. Because in this society the smallest bots are always trod upon. We’re the first to get hurt and the last to get saved. And I won’t stand to be disrespected.”

Ghost-memory Soundwave shook his helm. “Negative. Warfe, my symbiont. My responsibility.”

Warfe chuckled. “Oh no, Sounders. I’m not yours. Nobody belongs to anyone. You can care and protect, but you can’t own.” He reached out and place a hand on Soundwave’s plexiglass chestplate covering. “We’re equals. You protect my back, I protect yours. As equals, it’s alright for there to be disagreements. It’s okay for there to be fights. But what’s important as that we come back together. That’s what being a host mech, a symbiont, a symbiosis is all about. Mutual benefit...with no strings attached.”

As Rumble watched, the edges of the memory began to shift and the two of them found themselves in a cathedral and ghost memories of Vel and Soundwave were standing before a jewel adorned priest.

“How much for a service?” Vel asked, voice sweet. 

The priest sniffed. “No service is offered for castes beneath workers. Mechanoids have no place in Primus’ Well.”

Rumble stiffened, optics wide behind his visor as he saw the ghost memory of his host mech cradling a box, one which he quickly understood held the Sparks of Stratis and Warfe.

Vel huffed. “Fine. You just lost out on a valuable investment.” She grabbed Soundwave’s arm and tugged him away, nearly making the host mech drop the box he had in his arms. Rumble felt his vitals twist at seeing the melancholy expression on his face, the despair and the pain and the loss.

Vel and Soundwave made it outside eventually and the small noble was livid. “The nerve,” he hissed. “Don’t worry, Soundwave. I’ll have those little pets of yours—“ 

“Family.” Soundwave corrected icily, prompting Vel to gape at him with surprise. But he let it pass, as if sensing that the telepath’s pain were prompting the irrational reactions. Reactions that were completely normal, in Rumble’s opinion.

“Warfe. Stratis.” Soundwave said, voice hitching in his damaged intakes. “Family.”

It was then that it clicked for Rumble. Why Soundwave had taken it upon himself to protect and defend them when Hardtop had died. How even when Rumble and Frenzy were so much trouble, he offered nothing but patience and understanding. He considered them family, even without the bond. Conflict was inevitable in families, feelings would inevitably be hurt because nobody and nothing was perfect. But what kept everyone together...was trust. Trust was something Rumble and Frenzy had given too freely and lost far too often.

But that was the danger of it. Sometimes it hurts...and sometimes it opens up new possibilities.

Rumble glanced up at Soundwave, red visor glimmering with a myriad of emotions. He’s unsure of what to say so he does what he knows is enough to convey his message.

Reaching up, his blue digits brush against those of the host mech, latching onto his index and middle finger for all that he was worth. Soundwave’s thumb brushes the back of his palm, the gesture aching familiar and calming.

Everything wasn’t great and with the way the world around them was changing, it probably would never be good. But all of them were willing to give the future a shot, the one with them together, where they knew that so long as they were together, everything would be okay.

Because they were, regardless of waved formalities, family. They had been for a while and it’d just taken them some time to realize it.

When Rumble found himself ejecting from Soundwave’s docking chamber and landing into the waiting arms of his brother, he felt lighter than he had in eons. Soundwave stared at them both with affection, accepting them both as they walked up to him and placed their hands on top of his in a silent act of solidarity that spoke of their newfound trust. They were nearing the destination they’d envisioned, unknown and uncharted, but no longer feared.

Because they were together.

Unfortunately, bliss lasted little in the Pits and the sound of two terse knocks on the door immediately snapped them out of their reverie. With no announcement, the door slid open and the familiar form of Vel stood in the doorway, same saccharine grin on his faceplates. There was a familiar glimmer in his neon green optics, one that promised good for him but very often for the sake of them all.

“Sounders.” Vel cooed, stepping inside. “You won’t believe the deal I’ve managed to procure for us all.”

Rumble and Frenzy’s faceplates fell into a frown, their mirrored movements a stark reminder of the bond they shared.

“What is it?” Rumble asked, voice careful.

Vel didn’t even look at him. “Two fights.” He said, lifting two fingers. His hand was shaking but all three of them mistakenly assumed it was because he was excited. “The Prime’s security force is bearing down on this arena so the Pit bosses have offered all top gladiators a deal. Two more fights, against the top contenders in their sister brackets. You win them both, you get eight million credits.”

All three of the bots froze.

Soundwave was ominously still. “What?”

“Wait,” Rumble said, plating flaring in surprise.

“Eight million.” Frenzy breathed, awed. “That means...”

“You can get your freedom.” Vel smirked, amused. “Even without 40/60 deal, you still have enough to buy your way out. You just have to win. Now look,” he raised his hands, patting the air. “I know we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot here but I need the money. So do you. This gives us the chance to stop. To earn our keep, go our separate ways.” His optics glinted. “To win.”

Silence met his words and he scoffed, amused and slightly annoyed by the lack of shrieking.

“We’ll do it!” Rumble cried, looking as surprised by his own outburst as his two companions.

Soundwave shook his helm, “Rumble, des--”

“No.” Rumble said, turning to look at him. His lips were pulled into a small smile. “We can do it. Sure, it’ll be scary as the pit and we might not make it but it beats living in here for the rest of our lives. Soundwave, we can be _free_. All of us. Together!” He grinned. “Equals, remember?”

Something in that word made Soundwave’s visor flicker with recognition and he hesitated only briefly before dipping his helm in acknowledgment. Frenzy laughed, awed but completely in agreement.

This was it.

Their chance to finally be free.

As they smiled and chirped in joy, Vel watched them with an amused look. There was a brief moment where a bit of guilt flashed in those green depths but it disappeared as quickly as it’d appeared.

No one, unfortunately, seemed to notice.


End file.
